Going Crazy
by Mydeus
Summary: Fangrai Forever; Prompt 33: Some weeks after the fall of Cocoon, Lightning keeps seeing 'Fang' around every corner. - Lightning x Fang - Chapter 9: 'Hot Night'
1. Chapter 1

This one is quite (well, _extremely_) angsty. It's my take on the Fangrai Forever 33rd Prompt (_Some weeks after the fall of Cocoon, Lightning keeps seeing 'Fang' around every corner). _I was aiming at something a bit less depressing, but it turned out like this. I keep an open ending in case I'm in the mood to write a second chapter that might be more cheerful!_  
_

Enjoy your reading and please let me know what you think ! :-)

**Going Crazy**

The first time it happened was no more than three days after Fang sacrificed herself by turning into Ragnarok and saving Cocoon. I was wandering in the streets, slowly getting used to that normal life I had stopped living when becoming a l'Cie. It felt weird walking alone, without my friends, but also without the perpetual fear of being attacked by horrible monsters or transforming into a Ciet'h. I have to admit, I miss that time. Maybe I'm being unreasonable, but even if all of this was crazy and dangerous, it gave me a reason to live. Save Serah, survive to see a better tomorrow. But now that it's finally over, what's left for me? Serah has Snow, she's going to get married, and she doesn't need me anymore. As for the better tomorrow… Of course, Cocoon is saved, the brands have disappeared, and everyone is fine. But to me, this future looks dull. I don't like it. A future without Fang is bound to be miserable. _I_ feel miserable.

It's taken me a long time to understand – or better, to acknowledge – why I'm seeing her everywhere I go. The first time had just been a glimpse of her sari disappearing swiftly at the corner of a street. Then it had been her arm with the huge Pulsian tattoo I thought I saw, lost in a crowd of people. Then it had been her voice I heard on TV. At first, I thought that it was just because I missed her. She had been a good friend and partner, and I really got to like her, so I guessed it was normal.

But then it got worse. I started seeing _her_. Seeing her clothes, or things that reminded me of her, that's fine. But the sight of her smiling at me is something else entirely. After some time, I realized that not only do I miss her, but her absence makes my heart ache. Every time I hallucinate, I want to burst into tears of joy and run into her arms. And every time I remember she isn't really here, it feels like my heart is breaking into thousands of pieces. Once, I saw her standing in my kitchen, leaning against my fridge. I remember stopping dead in my tracks as I was heading for the stairs. I walked toward her, mouth agape, my hand reaching for hers. When my fingers closed around hers, she vanished. And I fell on my knees, crying my heart out. That was when I realized I loved her.

Because Lightning Farron never cries. I didn't cry when my father died, because I didn't know him enough to feel sad. I never cried when my mother was sick, because I was angry at her for leaving me with such a heavy burden on my shoulders. I never cried when Serah turned to crystal, because I knew I would find a way to get her back, no matter what. Somehow, I always had good reasons not to cry, even when it came to my family. But when it comes to Fang, it feels different. I have no good reasons. I got to know her too much. I know I can't get her back on my own. And the only burden she left me is that thing called love. What a stupid thing. Yes. _Such a stupid thing_. Before her, I had always been fine on my own. Taking care of myself, living my life, doing whatever I wished to do. But then she came out of nowhere, walked and fought on my side, and everything changed. _I_ changed. I let my heart open up for her. I fell for her, her charm, her character and her beauty. Now I regret it so much. Because, there's no use to try and think differently, I need her in my life. I can't live without her. And every day, those hallucinations remind me that, no matter how happy and fine I pretend to be, I'm not. There's a hole in me that only she can fill.

I sigh, and reach for the bottle of milk on the cupboard. I pick up a glass and sit at the kitchen table, about to enjoy my drink, when I see it. I'm focused on the glass in front of me, but I can see it in the corner of my eyes. _Her_ hands, crossed on the table. The particular skin tone, the bracelets, the scar. There can be no doubt. _Not again_, I think bitterly, pouring the milk in my glass, being careful not to lift my eyes and look directly at her. _I can't look at her, she's not there_, I try to convince myself. But it doesn't work. The hands don't disappear. I close my eyes, praying that she'll leave soon. I count to ten under my breath, my fingers clenched on the glass. It's not working. The hands are still there. And I can almost feel her presence. What did I do to deserve this? I can't… I can't live like this.

'When will you stop haunting me Fang?' I suddenly bark, unable to take it anymore. 'It's already so hard to live without you, I don't need your ghost staring at me whenever I eat, drink, sleep or walk in the street. Maybe you do this on purpose from your comfortable crystal bed, maybe you think this helps me not forget about you, maybe you think this is a way to make me feel better. Well it doesn't. It's creepy and it scares me and it doesn't help me at all. Plus, it's not like I could ever forget about the freaking Pulsian who stole my heart, _yeah_, so really, it's no use hurting me like this all the time. Yes, you know it hurts me, you see me crying, and it feels like you're mocking me. Because you just come here, make me feel like shit when you know there's nothing you can do about it, because hey, you're not there, and I really think you want me to hurt, because you _know_ I hurt when I see you and yet you just keep coming back.'

At this point, I know what I'm saying doesn't make sense – and that I'm talking to someone who's not there – but I keep talking, feeling tears gathering in my eyes, blurring my sight. Somehow, I just need to get it all out. I've had too much already.

'I want you to hold me,' I cry, 'and I want you to be with me, but that's just not possible and you know it. So please, stay away from me, and stop sneaking behind my back all the time, because I'm going crazy. I'm tired; I'm so tired of this. Please, I'm begging you, next time you come here, be _real.'_

'So should I just walk out the door and come back later?'

Before I can realize it, the glass in my hands shatters into thousands of pieces falling loudly on the floor. My palms are covered in blood, heavy pearls dropping on the kitchen tiles, a shiny trail making its way on the table. I just stare a wide-eyed at the mess I've just made, unable to believe my ears. I can't lift my eyes. She's not there. She can't be.

'You're one fine bitch,' I whisper, pressing my hands against my lap to try and stop the bleeding. 'As if seeing you weren't enough…'

I listen carefully, both hoping for and dreading the fact that an answer might come. Not a word. Not a sound. Nothing. Great. _No, not great. _I'm seeing and hearing things, I talk when I'm alone. It's not great. I'm losing my sanity. I bury my face in my arms, and cry. Because crying is the only thing left for me. That's the only thing I can do. I cry, and I cry, and I cry… And when I become aware that her hand is not on my shoulder, that she's not beside me to wipe my tears, I realize that it really was my imagination. Once again. And I cry harder, louder. I'm not even conscious of what I'm doing. I kneel on the floor and start picking up the pieces of the broken glass with my bloodied hands, as if cleaning up is the only thing that helps me keeping in touch with reality. I don't even bother with being careful, and I end up cutting my fingers even more. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. But then, I feel warm fingers catching my hand as I reach for the last piece. It's too late before I can stop myself. I look up, and I'm suddenly face to face with her, inches apart. I draw back with a shriek, my head banging painfully on the fridge. It's the last straw. That's it, it's too much. I can't take it. I jump to my feet and ran toward her with a roar, raising my fingers gathered into a tight fist. I punch her in the face, blinded by tears, and feel the madness fill my veins. I keep hitting her, over and over again, wanting to get rid of that fucked up mirage. _Be gone, be gone, be gone…_

'STOP HARRASSING ME!' I scream at the top of my lungs, grabbing her by the hem of her sari.

I push her against the wall, and kick, and punch, because I'm scared, hopeless, and truly going crazy. I feel her nose break under my knuckles, and a wave of hot blood flows over my fist. And yet, she doesn't move. _Why would she, she's not real. _She just remains still, her arms dangling stupidly on her sides. _Why won't you just leave me alone?_ I close my eyes, unable to stand looking at her face covered with bruises and deep cuts. I'm the one doing this. It can't be. I'm the one doing this. I'm hurting her. _But she hurts me too. _I burst into sobs. I would have thought it would have weakened me, but it does the contrary. I feel a new energy run in my muscles, and each punch, each kick keeps getting stronger. For long minutes, I throw my fists and my feet at her, with the irrepressible need to make her feel the pain I feel. For long minutes, I can't stop beating her. I have never felt this angry and resentful. I didn't know it could be so exhilarating to feel this mad at a vision. Because that's what she is. A vision. A vivid image of the one I love, but an illusion nonetheless. I start feeling tired when I realize that, in the end, doing this is of no use. It's useless. And I'm useless. My eyes open slowly, the eyelids heavy, and I start laughing. Oh, not a happy laugh. The kind of laugh that makes people shiver. I find myself in front of the wall. There's my blood splattered all over it and it's a bit damaged. But no sign of her. She's finally gone. _Good_. I slide against the wall and bring my knees toward my chest. I can't live like this anymore. I need to do something about it. I let myself fall on the floor and curl up on my side, trying to ignore the pain in my hands and the ache in my heart. And I fall asleep, in the middle of a puddle of milk and blood.

The next morning, I wake up in my bed. And I see her. _Again_.


	2. Chapter 2

I've written this chapter rather quickly, I've been super inspired for a few days and I can't stop writing!

So, this one is still angsty, but only because it's the continuation of the first chapter. I'll write a third one that will finally be romantic and fluffly and everything, I promise!

Enjoy your reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think! :-)

**Chapter 2  
**

_What did I do to deserve this?_ I think, burying myself deeper between the sheets. I'd have thought that, after what happened the night before, everything would have gone back to normal. Obviously, it's not the case. The first thing my eyes lay upon when they open is her. She's sitting on a chair opposite my bed, her arms crossed on her chest. She's in the shadow of the wardrobe, her head resting on the wood panel. It's her. There can be no doubt about it.

I take a deep breath, debating whether I ought to talk to her – well, the vision – or on the contrary, ignore her. In both cases, I'm bound to either go totally insane or kill myself. This is not a life. I can't keep talking to someone who's not there, making up a fake relationship with a hallucination. I'm way beyond the age of having imaginary friends – not to mention that I want way more than a lovely and cute friendship with her. But ignoring her… That would mean living with her shadow cast on me, all the time. If I don't want to acknowledge her presence, I know that seeing her will end up consuming me. Walking with the fear that she might magically appear whenever I feel too alone. Going to work with her weight on my shoulders, feeling her behind me, bending over my shoulder when I do paperwork. Having a shower when I'll know she'll be leaning against the door, watching. Checking my mails on my couch when I'll know she'll be sitting on the other end. All of this, I cannot do. I'm not strong enough.

I don't know what's best. Maybe if I decide to live with her, accepting that this hallucination is the only thing I can have, I could live a life close to normal. _No_. That's not the solution. A vision could never replace the Fang I knew, the woman I love. It's just a pale copy created by my imagination because I miss her. I'd even rather contempt myself with memories of all those feelings I had when around her than seeing her but feeling nothing. I remember distinctly her perfume, and when I concentrate enough, I can smell it in the air. I remember her voice and that strong Pulsian accent – I love that accent so much, I could listen to her talk all day long… I remember how her skin felt under my fingers, when they brushed against it. I remember her eyes sparkling when she won a fight. And when I find myself in front of that mirage, I try to look for all those things I supposedly know by heart, but I can't find them. And it makes me wonder, _do I really know her? Are all those memories trustworthy?_ The more I think about it, the more I feel those memories slipping from my grasp. Soon, I'll have nothing more to rely on than that dull and lifeless image following me wherever I go. Soon, I'll forget about her, about who she really is, about all the things in her that made me fall for her. Soon, I'll see her, and find myself asking, _who is she?_

I shake my head and rub my eyes with the back of my hands. I need to stop thinking for a moment. It's only making it worse. I need to stop thinking about her. I grab my tee-shirt, knowing that the only way I can achieve some inner peace is to go kill some beasts. When I fight, I'm too focused to think about such a stupid thing as love, to be angry or sad. Yes. Even if she follows me, I won't notice her presence, I'll forget about her. And I'll preserve my mental health a bit longer. That's a good plan. I reach for my pants, and that's when I notice the bandages on my right hand. I remember cutting myself, but I don't remember taking care of that. Probably because of the hysteria that possessed me, I guess. It's not like I'm aware of everything I do lately. I put my pants on with a sigh and head for the door. From the corner of my eyes, I can still see her. I won't look. I won't give up my sanity without fighting. I'll pretend she's not there.

But then, I hear something. It's not loud, barely audible. But I can hear it. The vision… It's _breathing_. I know for the past weeks I've been imagining things, but this is different. It feels _real_. I take a sharp intake of breath, scared and thrilled. I know I shouldn't feel excited. I know she's not real. It's just one more thing my mind has learnt to make up. I know all of this will end up breaking my heart for good. But it sounds so _real_. Slowly, I take a step toward her sleeping form. I can feel an aura that I've never felt before – not around the mirage, at least. Her chest is heaving peacefully, a strand of hair being slightly blown away from her face every time she exhales. I kneel before her, and reach out the back if my hand toward her mouth and nose. The air meeting my skin is burning and I quickly draw back, as if pricked by a needle. I'm so scared. And yet so hopeful. My fingers hover over the skin of her arm, and I close my eyes, taking my time to enjoy the heat emanating from it. I'm afraid that if I touch her, she'll disappear once again. A tornado of feelings rises in me, and boiling tears stream down my cheeks. Millions of thoughts rush in my brain, but none of them makes sense. Is she real? That's the only question I can ask. _Is she real?_ I need to make sure. I don't care if she'll vanish, or if I'll lose my mind for good, I just need to know. I bit my lip, to the point it almost bleed, and extend my finger toward her arm. My brow knitted in anticipation and fear, I poke the soft flesh. Once. Quickly, as a child who pokes an animal with a stick to make sure it's dead. Suddenly, she stirs, and the only thing I want to do is run away screaming. But then I see it. Her face. It looks… _Is it…?_ Her nose is awkwardly slanted on one side, tinted with a dark shade of greenish blue. Her cheek, her left eye are swollen. There's a deep cut on her cheekbone. And all those bruises. It hits me. _It is_.

I poke her arm once again. And this time, for the first time, she doesn't disappear. My throat is sore and I feel like my lungs are going to implode because I just can't breathe anymore. She's here. She always has been. She opens her eyes and I lose it. My eyes turn into waterfalls, I draw her to me, she falls over me, I pin her to the floor. I lock her arms with my own, hold on tightly to her body. _Her body._ Those words don't seem to make any sense, not after all this time. Until now, her body meant either her physical being, trapped in crystal, or the image I saw lurking around every corner, wherever I went. I forgot what it really meant. And now, I feel the heat of her skin, her hair tickling my neck, her breath on my shoulder. Her perfume – oh Etro, that intoxicating perfume – and her hand cradling the base of my skull, and her arm wrapping around my shoulders. I have never hugged someone like this in my entire life. It's a desperate hug. My fingers dig in her skin, trying to get a better hold of her. I bury my face deeper in her shoulder, my tears soaking the blue silk of her sari. I can't breathe, I can't think. My mind is wandering I don't know where, maybe it's because I've finally succumbed to the madness that had been threatening me for weeks. But what I know is that she's in my arms, her body is against mine, and for now this is enough. She's my anchor in this world of folly, and it's the only thing I need. She doesn't speak, not a word is uttered, and it's better this way. I don't want her to open her mouth to say things I don't want to hear. Minutes pass with the sounds of my cries muffled against her shoulder echoing loudly in the silence of my bedroom. Minutes turn to hours, but I don't let go. It's too soon. I've missed her for weeks, I think I deserve much more than half an hour of hugging. She doesn't complain. She keeps caressing my hair, patting my back lightly.

I just can't get enough of her, her warmth. My arms are sore, heavy, weak, but I can't let go. _No, no, no._ I know that if I let go, she'll disappear. And if she disappears, I'm dead. All the fear, the loneliness, the doubt, the pain that have accumulated during all these weeks gather into a single wave washing over me. It's irrational and stupid but I can't help it. I feel like she's going to leave me. _Please don't. Don't leave me. Don't leave me._ Those words keeps echoing in my head, like a mantra, until I'm convinced that that's what going to happen. I grab her by the soft material of her sari, and start shaking her, violently, without respite. I feel the cuts of last night opening under the bandages, but I don't stop. I see her face, the bruises, the cuts, the dried blood, the wet trail left by her own tears on her cheeks, the pained expression in her eyes. And I can't stand it. She looks weak, but doesn't have the right to. She looks so pitiful, so hurt, so helpless. I'm angry. I'm so angry. She went through nothing; she slept in a lovely cocoon of crystal, having dreams filled with happiness and joy. She left me all alone. _I_ had to cope with her absence and that goddamn love eating me from the inside. _I_ was the one mourning for her every single day. _I_'m the one who suffered. And now, she comes back, lets me know she's here, and now, she's going to leave me. This is not fair. I don't deserve this. I don't.

'I hate you!' I spit, slapping her face with the back of my hands, blinded my tears.

She doesn't do anything. She doesn't say anything. Just like last night. And it makes me even angrier. I cry, I yell, I cry some more, I keep on shaking her. I can't stop myself. She's so weak it makes me sick. _Selfish bitch_. She seems insensible to the pain, to the force of the blows I throw at her. She doesn't move, remains impassive. _It's impossible._ I know she's strong, but she's human. Even she couldn't resist to all of this without being hurt. _So you're just an illusion, in the end_. My world starts crumbling around me, all over again, and all I can foresee is darkness. I've just been tricked by my mind once again. My sobs keep getting stronger, but I never stop beating her. She's not real, so why should I care? I punch her shoulders, her stomach. Even after the temper I threw last night, the rage is my veins is still not one. It's driving m every move, and I can't control it. Until she grabs my wrists. I freeze. I stare at her and those eyes that stare back at me with an intensity I've never seen coming from them. I try to move, but I can't. I'm bent over her, tears dripping from the tip of my nose on her face. And I realize that she didn't move, nor feel any pain, because I'm the one who's weak. _I'm so weak_. My muscles feel atrophied. My limbs feel tired. Right now, I'm as harmless as a fly. When she sees that I understand, she lets go of my wrists. She helps me settle on her shoulder, and I bury my nose in the crook of her neck as she wraps an arm around my waist. My body is limp and I can't move. My hand is on her breast. Her heartbeat is so strong I can feel the pulsations under my fingertips. I hear her shallow breath. I feel her trembling fingers on my hip. I see a tear rolling down her temple. _Is this real?_ I think, unable to make out the difference between reality and illusion anymore. _Are you real?_ This time, an answer rises in the silence. The voice is shaky, unsure. It sounds odd, because this voice is usually never tinged with such negative tones. But it's an answer nonetheless.

'Only if you want me to be.'


	3. Chapter 3

Tada! Finally the third (_and not last_) chapter! I promised this one would be less angsty, and, *cough cough*, if you look _very closely_ it is! (a bit, toward the end, I'm sure you'll notice how much effort I've put into this to make it more enjoyable!).

The story will get sweeter as it evolves, I promise (the end of this chapter is just a premisce!).

Anyway, enjoy your reading, and please, let me know what you think! :-)

**Chapter 3  
**

A distant humming. Somewhere, far away. I feel numb but, surprisingly, at peace. I haven't felt that way for a long time. A pleasant warmth is enveloping me and the humming is soothing. I can't understand the words, but I understand the meaning they carry. Comfort. Love. Affection. I could stay like this forever, listening to that deep voice, cuddling up with _her_. This dream is fantastic. For weeks, all I've had were nightmares filled with pain and sadness. I thought that dreaming about her would make things worse than they already were, and I did everything I could to _not_ dream. Reality was hard enough on me. Therefore, I forgot what it was to have a real dream. But all of this feels too good, and for once, I allow myself to give in. I imagine Fang against me, safe, sharing my bed. I imagine her lips on my neck and her arm around my waist. I imagine how she would wake me up – her voice whispering sweet words into my ear, kisses on my cheek, fingers slipping under my tank top. I smile against the pillow as all those images spring in my mind. If I forget that this can never happen, it's not as torturous as I would have first thought.

I inhale deeply, and smile even more when I realize I can also smell her perfume. Just like the humming, it feels distant. But it's enough, because it still reminds me of her. My hand clenches on the sheet, which feels particularly soft under my fingers. I don't remember my sheets being so soft, but it's probably an effect of the dream. Everything just has to be better than reality, right? I remain like this for a long time, allowing myself to relax. I'm not really asleep and yet not really awake, and it feels wonderful. I'm conscious enough to decide what I want to see in my dream, but not enough to prevent my subconscious from adding elements of its own. The mix is rather eerie, but I like it nonetheless – I find the image of Fang and me riding Odin in a sea of stars ridiculously cute. For long minutes, I take my time to appreciate those literally fantastic sights. I feel extremely grateful for this moment of respite. It's far better to dream about Fang living with me than dreaming about me growing old and alone while Fang would still be imprisoned inside the crystal pillar. I sigh of contempt, deciding that if Fang never comes back, I can always relish the memories and dreams I have of her. I know it's going to take some time, but in the end, I'll be able to accommodate to the fact that she's not there anymore. It's all a matter of time.

After some time, I finally emerge, slowly, from this state of half-sleep. The dream eventually gets replaced by the cold reality of things. And my brain connects the dots. I'm in my bed. A cold breeze is blowing on my bare legs. The humming gets louder. The smell of the perfume gets stronger. The warmth doesn't fade. There's an arm across my waist. I become aware of all those things within a second, and suddenly the dream doesn't matter anymore. This is real. _Just like what happened this morning_, I think against my will. I remember all of it. An injured Fang sleeping on my chair. Hugs. Cries. Punches. All of it. And it was real. The sudden realization hits me hard and I feel a harsh pang. I curl my fingers into two tight fists, and I feel the hurt flesh scream in protest. I really battered her. And she was real. Now I'm sure of it. _You_ are real. _Only if you want me to be_. The words echo against my skull, and I can't stop it. I don't know what to do. She's here, against me, and I should do something. All I've wanted for weeks was to hug, and kiss, and love her, and now that she's here I'm scared. No. Not scared. I'm terrified. I know I love her, and obviously she now knows about it. But what if she doesn't feel the same? What if she doesn't care about me? Maybe I've been destroying myself little by little and wishing for something that I can't have. And if it's really her, she probably hates me right now. I've hurt her, beaten her so badly, I can still feel her nose crack under my knuckles and her hot blood on my skin. After this, how can she even believe me when I say I love her?

My eyelids flutter open. It's really her, just a few inches away. She's staring at the ceiling, humming softly to herself. I see her face and it makes me want to cry. She's barely recognizable under all those bruises and cuts. It's painful to even just look at it. But it's her. _Only if you want me to be_.

'I want you to be,' I whisper, my fingers tightening around what I finally acknowledge to be her sari.

The humming stops, and for a second I'm convinced that she's going to disappear. But then, she turns her face toward me, and raises an eyebrow. She doesn't seem to understand what I'm talking about and it pains me to realize that she already has forgotten.

'I want you to be real,' I shyly add, my voice not above a breath. 'Because I miss you, and I can't live without you. Because I'm tired of seeing you everywhere. Because I'm tired of being heart-broken every time you fade away at the touch of a finger. I want you to be real because I love you.'

Silence. What follows is silence. She stares at me, pinching her lips, and I really think she wants to laugh at me for being such a fool. In the end, it would have been better if she wasn't there at all. At least, when she wasn't there, I had hope. I could always imagine that she loved me back and that we could live together, happy. But if she laughs, if she doesn't love me, I would have suffered for all this time for nothing. There's a tight ball of fear and doubt growing in my stomach as I avidly wait for her to say something.

'You're stupid,' she finally breathes.

That's not what I expected. But I understand her reaction. I should have seen that coming. She doesn't even bother looking at me. And I'm grateful she doesn't, because it would have killed me if I'd seen her laugh at my face. It hurts even more than when she wasn't there. _Stupid_. The word slashes through my heart, because it's the truth. What did I expect? The woman is perfect, she has everything for herself, how could she ever be attracted to grumpy boring Lightning Farron? My world is falling apart. Now I have nothing to wish for, nothing to live for. The last thing that made life worth living is gone, sucked in a black hole. She's here, she's back, and yet I feel like she's more out of reach than she has ever been. I realize I don't even cry. It's no use. I can't feel anything but despise and shame. I've never cried for such feelings because I know I can't blame anyone but myself. And I can't pity myself. I've got too much pride for that –for what it's now worth. I get what I deserve, that's all. I turn on my back and stare at the ceiling, mirroring her postion. Her presence, which I had longed for for weeks, is now unbearable. I just want her to leave. _Just go_.

'You are _so_ stupid,' she repeats, and it feels like one more stab in my stomach.

'Enough Fang, it's enough,' I whisper, covering my ears with my palms.

I don't want to hear her voice. I want her to be gone. _Just go._ I close my eyes tightly, feeling the bed sagging as she finally moves. For what seems to be an eternity, I wait. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I wait nonetheless. There's not a sound, not a perturbation of the ambient air. I'm about to open my eyes when I feel a drop of water splashing on my cheek. Another one on my mouth. Another one on my eyelid. I frown, and when I hear a sharp exhale, my eyes shoot open. She's above me, tears falling like rain from her face. The picture is excruciatingly painful. Fang, who has always been so strong, now looks broken and vulnerable. Not only because of the horrible bruises staining her usually perfect tanned skin, and the cuts, and the swollen flesh. It's also because of that look in her eyes. The green irises are covered with a thin layer of a dark fog. She's obviously going through a very obscure and tortuous path of thoughts. It's disturbing. I get the sudden urge to reach out for her, tell her it's going to be okay, that I don't blame her. But I know I need to keep my distances if I want to preserve myself. I don't want to get a taste that could – and probably would – lead me to want more. I don't even know what she has in mind. Maybe she wants to say she's sorry for rejecting me. Maybe she wants to apologize for calling me an idiot. Either way, she needs to get a hold of herself and leave.

But she doesn't. Her hands dig in the pillow on each side of my head and she cries. Her arms are trembling so much, I think she might collapse over me. I want her to go and at the same time I want her to stay. I can't help it. It's Fang. I can't let her go when I know she feels that way because of me. If only I could have stopped the words from falling from my foolish mouth, if I had kept my feelings for myself and didn't drag her into all of this mess, we still could have been friends. And she'd be fine right now. I, who wants so much to see her happy, now am making her cry.

'I'm sorry,' I breathe, refraining myself from drawing her into a tight hug.

She stops breathing at those words – I notice her chest doesn't heave anymore. She stares at me, and just when I think that she's finally going to stop crying, she bursts into sobs.

'You're so stupid, Lightning,' she cries between shaky intakes of breath. 'Why would you feel this way for me? Why would you hurt that much? I swear I didn't want to do that to you, I swear. I thought you'd be happy once everything would be over. When I started hearing you, every time you suffered when you were thinking about me, I wished that I'd never have existed. I couldn't believe I was the one hurting you. Every second that passed since I turned into crystal, I could hear you cry, and it made me feel so damned guilty and miserable, I wanted to die. I can't believe you'd still want me after all you went through because of _me_.'

I can feel her fingers tightening on the pillow and she closes her eyes, more tears dripping on my face. I don't know what to make of this. _Of course I still want you_, I want to scream. But my tongue is glued in my mouth. She hasn't mentioned the fact that I love her. Is this a clue? It seems that she doesn't want to tackle the delicate subject. Or maybe she just doesn't care. Maybe she says I'm stupid for suffering like this because of someone who doesn't give a damn about my feelings. In that case, she'd be right. I'm foolish. Maybe for all this time, I've suffered for someone whom I loved, while not knowing if they'd loved me back should they be with me. It's true. I've been so focused on those feelings I felt – and still feel, more than ever now that she's here – that I totally forgot about how _she_ felt. I'm the one who's been selfish. I'm the one who has never cared about her. I wanted her to be with me, I wanted her to love me. I've never asked myself, _what does she want?_ Sad truth. And yet, I can't help it. I still have that lingering feeling of want in me. I still need her. I still want her.

'I still want you,' I whisper.

She exhales sharply, as if relieved. And I feel awfully guilty. Because she should see that I'm not entirely honest, that I want her all to myself and that it's not fair because I don't care about what she wants. But then, she smiles – slightly, I barely notice it – and I don't mind anymore. Because Fang smiling is one of the things that I've been wishing for, and it's finally happening, just here and now. Her fingers release their hold on my pillow and come to rest on my cheeks. This feels already too good. The heat, the softness, the delicacy… I've been wanting this so much, I want to take my time to enjoy every single second of it. But it doesn't last. I almost faint when she leans in and – Etro this is way beyond imagination – her lips land on mind. Time stops. Sparks, jolts of electricity, butterflies in my stomach. I've never imagined I could feel all of this because of a single kiss. I can't move, and as I find myself unable to react, she thinks she understands that I don't want it. When she draws back with a pained expression, I jerk up and grab her forcefully by the neck. I stare at her a moment, our faces inches apart, and we're both crying. Happy tears, sad tears. It doesn't matter. I dive in and kiss her. She wraps her arms around me, and I wrap my legs around her waist. I'm not letting her go. I'll never let her go.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone! Finally, a chapter that isn't too angsty! It has some fluff and everything, and the best part is that Fang is really real (_I heard some people were scared it might be a dream or something, I swear it isn't!_)

As of today, I still don't know how many chapters I'll write for this story, but I'm hoping it to be at least 6 or 7 chapters long. The next chapter should be posted in two or three weeks from now because of all the exams that are coming, so I won't have much time to write!

Also, thank you for the reviews, they're really sweet and much appreciated!

Enjoy your reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

**Chapter 4  
**

Within seconds, the emptiness I've felt for weeks is filled. I think I might burst because of all the joy, the relief, the love that flow through my veins. It's a rebirth. It's breathtaking. It's like I've never known how to feel, and suddenly, she's there, and all those emotions are opening like flowers in the dew of a spring morning. I realize the love I've felt for her does not even compare to what I feel right now. For the first time, I enjoy her presence as a lover. For the first time, I'm not scared about the future. She's with me and I'll do everything I can to keep her there. I don't want to live that dark period that lasted for only a few weeks, and yet felt like an eternity, all over again.

She rests her chin on my shoulder and she pulls me closer to her, and for long minutes, we hug each other in a comfortable silence. I think I'm going to cry, I think I'm going to laugh. My thoughts, my feelings, everything is twirling around madly in a crazy dance. Because _she's goddamned here with me and it's fucking good_. If I had known that this felt this thrilling and intoxicating, I think I'd be dead by now. I can't imagine myself deprived of this overwhelming, almost sinful pleasure for more than a few days. I realize that we have never been this close before. I was attracted to her when we were l'Cies, but never got to really touch her. My eyes often roamed over her body, but I never wanted to touch her. Probably because I was scared I would enjoy it too much. She would touch me sometimes, however. A pat on my back, or a slight punch on my shoulder. And I always despised it. Because I felt guilty for wanting more, embarrassed to feel my cheeks flush and angry at her because she just didn't see how that was affecting me. Now it's different. No shame, no guilt. It just feels right.

She eventually releases her hold and draws back a little, looking at me. Her face looks even more painful now that I can see it in plain daylight. I bite my lip and push a strand of her raven hair away. My fingers hover over the bump on her forehead that is tinted with shades of dark blue and green. The deep cut on her cheekbone looks awful. And her nose is definitely broken. I want to say I'm sorry, but I find myself unable to utter a single word. I know it's stupid, but I feel like if one if us talks, it's going to break the magic of the whole atmosphere. And we don't need words anyways. It's like we can understand each other just with a look or a gesture. Of course, later, we'll have to talk. There are so many things that I want to say, and she probably has a lot of thoughts to share too. But now is not the time. I guess we need some time to get used to each other's presence. We haven't had a conversation for weeks, and now that we've put feelings into that relationship, things have been taken to a whole new level. I don't quite know the limits. I'm scared to do something that might embarrass or upset her. I don't even know what she thinks about all of this. I don't even know if we can declare this an official relationship or something.

Oh, Etro, I'm losing it…The poor woman has just come back and I'm already harassing her with those stupid feelings. I didn't even bother to ask her how she felt, how she got out of the pillar, how she got to my house. No. I just beat her, insulted her, spat on her. What a warm welcome… I can be such an idiot. I'm wondering why she still hasn't run away – because honestly, she should have. It seems that all I can do is hurting her. I shake my head to chase those thoughts away. We'll see where this is going to get us, but hopefully we should be fine now. I'll make up for all of the trouble I put her into, that's a promise. My hand grabs her by the arm, and I feel the scars that had so often intrigued me during our journey under my fingertips. I realize I don't know what caused these scars. I realize I don't know anything about her. I have so many questions, I want to learn all there is to learn about her. My feelings for her are raw, based on who she was when we were l'Cies. I want to know more so I can love her more. But now is not the time. I need to take care of her.

I take her hand in mine, and when I think about it, I feel a warm wave of affection rise in me. _I'm holding her hand_. Her fingers feel warm, and though I always imagined her palms would be rather calloused because of the spear she always carries around, they are incredibly soft. I love the way her hand fit in mine, as if they were supposed to hold each other. I love the cold bracelets brushing against the skin of my wrist. I love how she strokes her thumb against the back of my hand. I shake the thoughts out of my head and lead her to the bathroom. I freeze when we stop in front of the mirror above the sink. I stare at our reflection. _Our_ reflection. I let out a shaky sigh and squeeze her hand as I smile at her through the mirror. It's not the first time I see her in my bathroom, but it's definitely the first time she doesn't disappear when I look into that mirror. It's weird to see us like this, side by side. I look awfully tired and she looks, well, not that good either. But it doesn't matter. At least, we're both here, together, appearing in the same frame. It's reassuring, somehow.

I let her sit on the edge of the bathtub and I find the bottle of surgical spirit in the box of medical supplies I keep in my cupboard. I pour some on a cotton ball and turn to face her. Given the size of the cut, it's most likely to sting. I wait for her to let me know she's ready, and press the cotton against her cheekbone. She bites her lip with a stifled moan and I rub the solution on her skin, cleaning away the dried blood that had settled in the wound. I can see it hurts, but we can't risk an infection. I also clean a few superficial cuts and throw the blood stained cotton away. I take a few seconds to observe her nose, and I realize with a pang that it's badly broken, and awfully slanted. I'm going to need to straighten it up if she doesn't want to be disfigured later. If it heals that way, there will be nothing we can do about it in the future. She grabs my wrist as I lock her nose between my thumb and index, as if she wants to stop me. I find her eyes and try to let her know that it's going to be okay – though I know this will be painful. I know how to do it properly and rapidly, but talking from experience, I also know this is not pleasant. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes tightly and then she nods. I immediately twist her nose, quickly, but as delicately as could be. She hisses and her fingers clench around my arm forcefully, blood running down her lips and chin. I hurry to press a towel on her face to stop the bleeding and sigh in relief. At least it's done. It's not pretty, but it's done.

I keep the towel against her face, checking from time to time how it's doing. I caress her hair gently, hearing her moans getting softer and softer, until silence surrounds us once again. After a few minutes, I'm finally able to wash all the blood with a humid cloth. Her nose still looks bad, but it's already a bit better. In two or three weeks it should be completely fine. I take a cream and put some on my fingers. She shivers when I start rubbing it on the bruises, probably because it's cold. I massage the skin slowly, tenderly, focused on my task. I'm the cause of all those injuries, the least I can do is treat them properly. I smile when I realize she leans in the touch, her hands on my waist. I can feel her relax, the muscles of her shoulder loosening under my fingers. The pain seems to ease at last, and when I'm done, I kiss her softly on the forehead. She sighs and rests her head against my chest. Her ear is pressed on my skin, just above my left breast, and I suddenly become aware of my heart beating loudly against my ribcage. And she's obviously hearing it too – I can feel her finger tapping my hip, following the rhythm. I feel her eyelashes brush against my skin as she closes her eyes, followed by a tear running down, disappearing between my breasts.

'I'm so happy you didn't do it', she mumbles weakly against me, drawing me closer to her.

Now, she's probably heard my heart stop. I know what she's talking about. And I wish that wasn't the first thing she'd have thought about bringing up. A bit sooner, she told me that when she was in crystal stasis, she could hear me, and my thoughts. So of course she knows. She knows that at some point, I was so desperate I almost committed the irreparable. _Almost_. I don't know why, or even what, but something prevented me from doing it. It felt as if someone – and in the back of my mind, I'm convinced it was her – blocked my arms and held me still until I came back on my decision. At that point, I really thought death was my only way out. Everything was running out of control and I just wanted it to stop. Life had become too hard on me to keep on living it. I had a moment of weakness, but if I want to be entirely honest, I don't think I would have done it. I don't think I've ever considered that option seriously. Of course, I thought about it, more than once even – and it's probably why Fang got scared when I played with the butcher knife that night, after I had seen her ghost lurking on me for the hundredth time. She got scared and she stopped me; but really, I wouldn't have done it anyways. I'm too much of a coward to do something like that. I'm not strong enough to take my own life. She couldn't have known, though. And I have to admit, it touches me that she cared enough about me to try and stop me from her crystal cocoon – which she did, without knowing it was unnecessary.

Yet. Actually, I think she saved me. Even if she wasn't there, she was what kept me going. She was the only thing that gave my life a purpose. It's true. Without her, even if I had been alive, I wouldn't have lived. I would have spent the rest of my life wandering without a goal. Even if she was trapped in the damn pillar, even if I felt more desperate every day, I still had something to hope for. I was waiting for her. And eventually, in spite of all the pain and the sadness, it paid off.

I lift her chin to meet her eyes – full of tears, but surprisingly bright – and smile to her, doing my best to contain my own tears, that threaten to fall.

'Thank you', I whisper softly, brushing a tear away from her cheek with a stroke of my thumb.

She smiles back and plants a kiss on the inside of my wrist. This has to be one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. Her lips linger there for a moment, and finally she gets on her feet.

'Can I have a shower?' she asks, her voice not above a whisper.

'Of course,' I answer, keeping my voice down too. 'I'll get you some clothes.'

It's like the both of us are afraid of talking aloud, as if we're afraid to voice what we want to say. Still, it's a conversation. Sort of. She asked, I answered. This may look boringly casual, but it's not. That conversation is the first I've had in weeks. It marks the beginning of something new. If anything, it's solemn, not casual. I leave her a moment to rummage through my wardrobe and find something that could fit her. I go back to her and hand her a tee-shirt I got when I joined the CG and a pair of shorts.

'I'm sorry,' I apologize shyly. 'Those are the only ones I could find. '

'It's cool,' she shakes her head, taking the clothes. 'Perfect.'

'Okay', I say, fiddling nervously with the hem of my tank top. 'You can give me your sari, I'll wash it while you shower.'

She nods with a light smile and expertly removes the garment, which falls at her feet. I try to hide my flushed cheeks as I pick it up , and quickly close the door behind me. I sigh heavily and slide down the door. At least, I know it wasn't a figment of my imagination. I'm _really_ attracted to her. I hold the soft fabric against me and take my time to enjoy her warmth that can still be felt. I drape the sari around my shoulders, and I'm instantly surrounded by her scent and perfume. I bring a hem to my nose and inhale deeply, a smile spreading on my face. That thing is a part of Fang, washing it would be such a crime, I don't have the heart to do it. So I just keep the blue silk close to me and rest my chin on my knees, listening to the quiet sound of water running. I can't believe it, and yet I know it's true. _My_ _Fang is back._


	5. Chapter 5

Well, I managed to write this today, bewteen a few scenes of Othello! It's so frustrating to be inspired when you have to learn hundreds of pages about some philosophers' POV on the Glorious Revolution... Anyway, here is another chapter, and as I promised, it's super fluffy! (compared to what I usually do, at least).

I'll try to set regular updates, but now I _really_ need to prepare for next week's exams, so I guess I'll post another chapter on Sunday!

Thanks once again for your lovely reviews, they really motivate me!

Enjoy your reading, and, as always, don't forget to let me know what you think! :-)

**Chapter 5  
**

For more than fifteen minutes, I remain seated against the door, lulled by the sound of water and the thought of her. I feel fine at first, with her sari falling over my shoulders and the slumber that starts to weigh on me. But then I realize that I can't hear her. Of course, I don't expect her to sing or whatever, but I should at least hear things, like the bottle of shampoo opening, or splashes louder than others. It's weird. And when I take a look at my watch, I realize that she's been in there for a lot longer than necessary. I know, I'm being paranoid, but if something happens to her now… I don't even want to think about how I might react.

I knock on the door lightly, then a bit harder when there's no response. I bit my lip and open the door slowly, not knowing what I might find inside. I shriek when I see her sitting against the tiles of the shower, still in her underwear.

'Fang,' I cry out, rushing to open the door of the shower. 'Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!'

'I'm fine', she says softly, lifting her chin, letting the water fall freely on her face. 'I just… Missed the rain.'

She smiles sheepishly at me and I sigh of relief. She made me worry because she missed the rain? _Really_? I push a strand of my hair away from my face and try to compose myself a bit. The last thing I want is to be the overprotective kind. I don't want her to know every time she'll be away for more than a few minutes, I'll automatically assume something terrible has happened to her. I'm about to leave pouring out apologies when she grabs me by the wrist.

'Enjoy the rain with me?' she whispers, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

In any other circumstances, it would have sounded awfully childish, but right now, it sounds incredibly sweet and romantic to my ears. It has to be one of the most charming propositions I've ever heard. She pulls me gently to her and I immediately oblige, entering the confined space without hesitation. I should have hesitated.

'Fang!' I squeal with a ridiculous high-pitched voice. 'It's freezing!'

The water that is now falling on me is so cold, it feels like I'm naked in the middle of a goddamned blizzard. She tries to contain her laugh as I start shivering madly, goose bumps appearing on my skin. I don't see the funny side of this, but she obviously does. She's keeping a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but it's useless – and she perfectly knows it. I know I probably look ridiculous, soaked, and trembling so much I'm still wondering how I can stand properly. I clench my teeth to prevent them from chattering and try to give her a hard stare, which only results in making her laugh more. And I don't mind at all. This time, I don't shiver because of the cold, but because of that precious laugh the reaches my ears and echo on the tiled walls. Finally, she decides to put an end to my torture, tugs on my arm and makes me sit across her lap. She wraps her arms around me and nuzzles my neck gently, as she tries to warm me up. I don't know what she's made of, but her skin feels hot under my fingers when I hug her against me. My body captures her warmth, and after a few minutes, I don't find the water that cold anymore. I smile against her cheek as her thumb strokes my arm and her lips brush against my pulse point. That rain is not unpleasant, in the end.

'I know this is gonna sound cheesy,' she breathes on my neck, sending chills down my spine. 'But when I was in that pillar I only missed two things. The rain. And you.'

'Fang…'

'And I missed you even more,' she continues, her lips travelling on my skin, 'when I understood how you felt. I wanted you so much. You think you hurt, but believe me, what I experienced was way worse. I heard everything you said or thought, I felt your pain, and there was nothing I could do about it. Because you couldn't hear me. You couldn't see what I wanted you to see. Every time I tried to communicate with you, through your thoughts or your dreams, you saw me and thought you were going crazy. All I wanted was to make you feel better, to let you know I was there somehow. And it did the exact opposite. Day after day, I could feel your hatred and your fear grow, and I perfectly knew I was the one to blame. It's my fault you suffered this much. But please, believe me when I say I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to know… I loved you. And that whatever happened, I would always be there for you.'

I feel my heart swell in my chest when I hear these words, and all I can do is close my eyes let my tears mingle with the water running down my face. I should have known. The visions weren't real, but they weren't a figment of my imagination either. I should have known it was her way of talking to me. I guess I just didn't want to look at it that way because I was scared. Scared to hear what she wanted to say. Scared to find out that she might never come back. Scared to find out she didn't love me. I should have listened.

'It's not your fault,' I acknowledge bitterly. 'You did everything you could, and I rejected you. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, not yours.'

'It's our mistake, then,' she whispers, twisting a strand of my hair around her finger. 'But now… We can make up for it.'

She smiles slightly, her hand coming to rest on my cheek, and she turns my face toward hers. She's so close, and yet so far… I can see drops of water hanging on her eyelashes, but her mouth seems untouchable. I feel her breath on my skin, all I need to do is get an inch closer. Her arm tightens around me, and with a blush I realize that our breasts are touching – and are _very_ sensible because of the cold. I clench the soft fabric across her shoulder and take a deep breath, before she finally grants me my silent wish. Her hand slips behind my neck, she draws me closer, and finally, she kisses me. I think I'll never be able to get enough of this. It feels wonderful. She's so gentle, so tender, she tastes so sweet… Every brush of lips feels incredibly good. I shift into her lap and straddle her, because the position is starting to feel uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to mind, and let her hand wander down my back while I put my hands on her cheeks. Soon, she is licking my lower lip, and, _Etro, do I really need to be that loud? _I open my mouth, and it doesn't take long before she invades it. Her tongue finds mine and they began dancing a languorous ballet together, which leaves me all flushed and bothered. As her fingers press my hips, as I swallow her own moans, the cold water suddenly turns into a hot tropical rain. But then, she finally breaks the kiss, and I'm finally able to breathe again – though I'm a bit frustrated it didn't last longer. She rests her forehead on mine and smiles, bringing my fingers to her mouth to kiss them.

'You should get out now, sweetheart,' she says softly, finally turning off the water. 'You'll get sick.'

I nod and rise to my feet, supporting myself with the door of the shower. It's true that I feel cold, and the soaked tank top and shorts are not helping. I reach for a towel and a bunch of warm clothes I always keep in my bathroom. I take a look at her to make sure she's not staring – I know it's stupid, it's _Fang_, but I don't want her to see me naked just now. It doesn't feel like the right moment. I quickly take off my wet clothes, dry myself and slip into the thick sweater and sport trousers. I can already feel my nose blocked, but I don't mind. At least, I got to enjoy the rain. I take a quick peek at Fang that turns into a lingering stare of appreciation when my eyes land on her naked back. She's drying her hair, and I take in the beautiful sight of all the perfect curves and the muscles moving under the wet skin. She looks so strong, so beautiful, so…

'I know you're staring,' she declares lightly as she starts rubbing the towel on her neck and chest.

I try to say something but I can only babble incoherently, and I feel my cheeks starting to burn. And I feel even worse when she turns to face me, putting her hands on her waist. I do my best to not look at those proudly exposed breasts, but I fail miserably. My eyes follow the thread of her necklace that ends precisely between them, and I just can't help it. I swallow hard, unable to believe this can have such an effect on me. I mean, they're just _breasts_. But it awakens something in me, something I haven't felt for an eternity. _Desire_. I take a deep breath and finally turn on my heels, not wanting to torture myself any longer.

'You don't have to be embarrassed,' she says softly, and I can already feel her behind my back. 'I like it when you look at me.'

_And _I_ like to look at you_. I stop breathing as soon as I feel her arms wrapping around my waist. She's pressing against my back, her chin on my shoulder, her hot breath tickling my ear. She's definitely oblivious of the fact that I'm not embarrassed at all, but rather excited. She doesn't seem to realize she has me going all hot and flushed. This is wrong. It's really not the time to think about things like that. Yesterday I was beating the hell out of her, thinking she was an illusion, and today all I can think about is sex? _Really?_ I close my eyes and try to forget the fact that she's naked against me – I have to admit, easier said than done. Oh Etro… Of course I'm excited, how can it be otherwise when all I need to do is turn around to touch her and let my fingers wander on her skin? This is not my reason talking, it's just my body. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm attracted to her and it just shows.

Plus, I perfectly know I want so much more than that. Obviously, I want sex, but this is far from being my priority. No. All I want are long talks on the couch to learn more about her. I want romantic escapades and I want dinners with candles on the table. I want to both of us to flop into an armchair and eat noodles while watching movies. I want to cuddle up in bed with her on Sunday mornings. I want simple things. I want a normal life. That's all I'm asking for.

I turn on my heels and stare into her eyes, my hands on her hips. I don't care if her chest is bare anymore, because I've just stopped thinking about that. I know what I want.

'Tonight, we're eating noodles,' I smile brightly as I pat her cheek.

I hand her the tee-shirt she's supposed to be wearing and head for the kitchen, humming happily to myself. Half-way, I sneeze violently, and I can hear her at the other end of the corridor:

'Well, that was cute!'


	6. Chapter 6

So, I got some time yesterday night to write a bit, because I managed to learn a lot more than I expected to! So, here's the 5th chapter, and it's ridicoulously fluffy (I don't really like it, I love angst so much more...).

That said, I don't think I'll get enough time to write the 7th chapter this week (or maybe on Saturday/Sunday, I don't know).

Anyway, enjoy your reading, and let me know what you think! :-)

**Chapter 6  
**

It's been a week since Fang came back, and we still haven't left my place, not even once. We've talked a lot, kissed a lot, slept a lot. She told me how she got out of the pillar, with so many details it's like I've lived the thing. She told me what she dreamt of when she was in crystal stasis, and how she felt whenever she had to listen to my cursing the world and life. What she heard me say is actually quite accurate, though I never quite realized how offensive I was when I started rambling on my detestable condition. For hours, we could stay together on the couch, me sitting in her lap, my head on her shoulder. And we talked. And when there was nothing more to say, we kissed. She still hasn't tried to touch me – she admitted two days ago that she wanted to wait for the right time. Sometimes, it's very hard to have her lying in bed next to me, her body pressing into mine, my brain spilling over thoughts that I'm ashamed of. But it's also very easy to just enjoy her warmth and presence, to sleep in on mornings and wake up with her on my side, a hot coffee waiting for me on the bedside table, to watch stupid TV shows with her arms around my shoulder. So I'll wait too.

In just a week, I've learnt a lot about her. I know she hates tea because she doesn't see the point of drinking hot water with dried plants in it. I know she can't sleep late because of her past as a huntress - she got used to waking up very early and now it's impossible for her to wake up after seven. I know she loves blue – I could have guessed that – and hates red. She feels a compulsory need to train every day, though it's perfectly useless – my garden has become a huge battlefield covered with feathers of ripped-open pillows and cushions and, unfortunately, of real birds. She could die for chocolate ice cream covered with fresh strawberries. She loves it when I massage her neck but she can't stand it when I poke her sides. I know how her eyes sparkle when she tells me she loves me. I know how the corner of her lips stretch when I tell her I love her. Those are little things, but they're what makes Fang. I'm glad I've got to learn each of them and I hope I'll learn much more in future weeks.

Now, we're on the couch again, and for the first time, I think I'm a bit bored. There's nothing much to do, and as much as I love being with Fang, I've never longed so much for a walk. I'm about to suggest a ride to the park that's just a few minutes away, but I don't get the opportunity to voice my desire.

'Lightning,' she says softly, combing my hair with her fingers. 'I, huh…'

Well, that's unusual. Until now, she's always said what she wanted to say without hesitation, and now it seems like she can't get it out – whatever it is. I take a look at her face and I notice with a frown that she looks nervous. And a nervous Fang is never a good sign, because it means something either horrible or extremely dangerous – or even both, as a matter of fact – is going to happen.

'You…?' I insist, knowing that now my curiosity is pricked, I'll have to get an answer, no matter what.

'I… Wouldyouliketohavedinnerwithmetomorrownight,' she blurts out, with a smile so unlike her that it looks excruciatingly superficial.

I stare at her, trying to decipher what she has just said, but the words just don't make sense in my brain. Did she just say _dinner_? She's nervous about a dinner? No, that's not possible. She can't be nervous about something so trivial – she wasn't even anxious when we had to fight Barthandelus and Orphan. I'm really starting to worry, thinking that there's something wrong with her. She obviously wants to confide in me, and I'm totally fine with it, but her lips seems to be hermetically sealed.

'What?' I ask softly, squeezing her hand gently, hoping she's going to confess.

'I said,' she finally speaks again, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, 'would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?'

_Oh_. So it really was about a dinner. That's definitely unexpected. I mean, it's not like she hasn't been eating here for a week, every night, is it? I don't know what to say, both because I don't understand what her point is exactly, and because I fear that I might have gotten it wrong. I can see it in her eyes, she's hoping for an answer, but honestly, what can I say? Of course I'll have dinner with her tomorrow, just like tonight, yesterday, and the day before that… There's nothing horrible or dangerous about that, right?

'I know what you're thinking,' she says shyly, pushing me aside to get on her feet. 'What I mean is, I want… A date. Kind of. You know, our relationship kinda imposed itself on us, because we knew it was the right to do. But I never got to try and seduce you, or whatever you want to call it. It's been a week and we're already living like it's been years since we got together. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but I… I just want to take you to a nice restaurant, I want you to wear a nice dress, and laugh at my silly jokes, and look at the stars with me. I know it's not usually like me, but I want something a bit more romantic than reality TV shows on an old fashioned couch.'

I look at her pacing back and forth in front of me, her fingers running anxiously through her wild mane. That thing must have been running in her mind for some days now, because I can't remember any time when she looked so much agitated. It's very surprising coming from her. I would have never thought she'd be the shy kind when it comes to asking someone out – especially _me_. I gently take her by the wrist and she stops dead in her tracks, looking at me with a bashful look in her eyes.

'Of course I'll have dinner with you', I tell her softly, watching as she suddenly brightens.

'Really?' she says happily, a smile spreading on her face. 'Nice! Okay, well, I'll just go now, then.'

'What? Where?' I ask as she buckles the belt of her sari.

'Well, I need to do some things, you know,' she explains vaguely, putting her sandals on. 'I'll pick you up at six thirty. See you tomorrow sweetheart.'

That said, she just bents to peck my lips and disappears from my sight. At first, I can't quite understand how I went from being bored to death to super excited. And then it hits me. _I have a date_. I know it's stupid, but I feel like a teenage girl going to her first prom with her crush. I remember Serah's face when Snow first asked her out and I'm sure I look exactly the same – and I thank Etro that no one ever got to see me like this. I know it's stupid to feel this way, and that it's just a night out with Fang, but I can't help it. It's not like this night is going to define our common fate as a couple, and yet I feel both nervous and thrilled. Who would have thought Lightning Farron could get so frivolous about a date?

I take a look at my watch and sigh deeply when I realize there's still twenty six hours to go. At least, I have enough time to decide what to wear. _She wants a nice dress_, I remember. The thing is, I don't have nice dress. I head for my bedroom and open the door of my wardrobe. I still have the dress I forced myself to wear for the Guardian Corps ceremony, but it looks relatively ugly. I also have the one my mom bought me when I turned fourteen. Too short. And I have the one Serah offered me when she thought I was hanging out with a guy of the GC. It looks fine, but it's red. Three dresses, none of them fits.

I give an exasperated look at the huge pile of clothes and curse myself for not buying more feminine clothes. I have tons of shorts, pants, tee shirts, tank tops, shirts even, but only three dresses. And the skirt of my uniform. What a lady… I reach for my phone and dial Serah's number, admitting that she's now my only option. I know I'm a bit taller than her, but most of her dresses aren't very short, so she might have something that actually fits me. Or so I hope. When she answers, I immediately regret my decision. I should have known that she'd have reacted like this. I totally lose her when I tell her I have a date. I crawl under the weight of her questions and incessant chirping, and after long minutes, I finally convince her to come over with her dresses.

Half an hour later, she knocks at my door – or more, kick it open with her foot, as she's submerged by an enormous stack of dresses – most of which I recognize for having seen her many times wearing them. She immediately follows me to my bedroom and drops her heavy burden on my bed.

'So,' she says with a large smile, her fists on her hips. 'Who is it?'

'I'm not telling,' I answer casually, already selecting the dresses I like the most.

'What's his name? Is it the guy of the CG you like?'

'I don't like any guy of the CG and I won't say his name. I just need a dress, so please, don't harass me with questions.'

'Oh come on Claire, that's not fair!' she mewls tentatively, tugging on my tee shirt. 'Where is he from?'

'What about this one?' I cut, trying to remain impassible, pointing to a green dress.

'Nope, not your style. What does he look like?'

'And this one?'

'No, too short. Come on, just his name.'

'I like this one.' I say, ignoring her never-ending series of questions.

'Obviously too transparent for you,' she shakes her head, tapping her chin as if she's some kind of expert. 'No, I think this one's perfect.'

'No, she hates red,' I let out when she picks up a crimson short dress.

I frown and grimace when I hear the words slip past my mouth. _Shit_. That's a terrible, terrible mistake. I clench my teeth and my fingers tighten on the soft material of the red dress, mentally preparing for the storm I feel coming.

'She?' she immediately asks, wide eyed, even more excited than before. 'It's a _she_? A woman? You have a date with a woman?'

'No, you misheard me,' I half-heartedly try, perfectly knowing she won't believe me.

'This is _so_ awesome!' she exclaims as if she didn't hear me, shaking my arm roughly. 'Of course I had my doubts, but I'd never thought… Oh my, that's so cute! Come on, what's her name, what's she like? Can I meet her? Do I know her?'

'No you don't,' I sharply say with a terrible desire to slap myself. 'Please Serah, I just need a dress for tomorrow, I'm not here to debate about that right now.'

'Claire Farron, I won't lend you anything if you don't promise me I'll get to see her.'

I lift my eyes to the sky, unable to believe she can be this childish at times – especially critical times like this.

'You'll meet her,' I sigh heavily, crossing my little finger with hers. 'Now help me find a dress.'

For more than an hour, we look for the perfect dress, but the task is made extremely difficult both because Serah has totally different tastes from mine, and I can't seem to find one that is sexy enough, long enough, and of the right color. There is a dozen of specimens in front of my eyes and yet, none of them looks good enough for Fang. I really want to look good for her, the night just can't be special if I dress like a hobo. If only she had told me what she prefers, I wouldn't be stuck here, torturing myself for a dress that I'll wear only once anyways. _Okay_, I think to myself. _The key is: elimination_. I put the three red dresses away, along with two green ones. The blue one is definitely too short. The pink one is distasteful. The grey is _so_ dull. The white is too girly. In the end, I have to choose between an elegant beige dress and a strict black one. And I don't really like either. _This is a lost cause_. Okay, I'll have to lower my expectations. Obviously, it's either gonna be the beige or the black dress. I'm sure Fang would prefer the black one, but on the other hand, black isn't really what I had in mine. I had hoped my beloved sister would enlighten me, but from the looks of things, I'm starting to wonder why I even chose to call her in the first place. Serah is not helping at all – she's been trying for long minutes to guess the name of my date, pointing absent-mindedly at dresses she perfectly knows I've already put away – and I'm beginning to feel a bit tired and bored.

Finally, I opt for the black dress, that doesn't look too morbid, fits me pretty well, and – I have to admit – shapes my ass nicely. If I add silver bracelets and a necklace, it may look rather classy. I don't know where Fang wants to take me, but it probably won't be a fast-food restaurant, so it's best to be prepared. I hang the dress on the handle of my door and gather all the other dresses in a thick pile.

'Thanks Serah,' I tell her, loudly enough to cover the names she's been uttering for too long already. 'I have what I needed. You can go home.'

'I'm not even surprised you chose that one,' she smiles, finally stopping in her litany. 'So, when will I get to see her?'

'We'll see,' I answer, pushing her in the corridor. 'Thanks for your help, really. Now I need to get prepared.'

'You know your date is only tomorrow, right?' she grins as she walks through the door. 'I wonder what woman in the world can make you so impatient.'

'Yeah, I wonder. Now come on, there are things I need to do.'

'Okay, okay, I'm leaving,' she whines, disappointed that I didn't give her a name. 'See you next week then. And I want to meet her!'

'You will, for Etro's sake,' I tell her, exasperated. 'Thanks again, and good night.'

'Yeah, good night to you too. Though I take it you won't sleep much!'

I shrug and close the door, and I realize she's right. I definitely won't get much sleep tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys!

So, I managed to write some 8000 words this week-end, so I'll be able to make up to 3 updates during my first week of exams!

This is one of them (first part of the date in itself, so be warned, I've reached the max. level of fluffiness. Of course, this will have to be counterbalanced later... Héhé...), and I'll post the next chapter on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Sorry for the cliffhanger, I had to cut it there to keep the lenght reasonable (you can always try to find what's going to happen next!)

Enjoy your reading, and if you have any advice or remark whatsoever, let me know! :-)

**Chapter 7  
**

I take one last quick glance in the mirror, and just when I turn the light off I hear a sharp knock on the door. This is it. Right on time. I try to refrain from giggling stupidly as I put my shoes on and take my purse on the coffee table. I take a few seconds to compose myself and clear my throat, and I open the door. My smile disappears from my face instantly, replaced by a flabbergasted look. Wow. _Is that really Fang?_ One thing is sure, I wasn't expecting this. I imagined slacks, a skirt, a dress, even some kind of elaborated sari, but not _this_. _This_ definitely isn't what I could have hoped for. She could have been so beautiful in a pretty dress – she can be beautiful in basically anything, anyway. But _this_?

She's wearing a perfectly ironed tuxedo, with the white shirt, the black polished shoe, the black tie and everything - she's even tied her wild hair into a short ponytail with a black ribbon. At first, I don't know what to say, nor what to think. I don't even know if I like it, as a matter of fact. But then she smiles, and I fall for it. I don't know how she can do that, but even in men's clothes she looks smoking hot. She looks handsome – the perfect gentleman every straight woman must have dreamt of once in their lives – _and_ sexy. That's just supernatural.

She smoothes the front of her suit jacket and crosses her hands as if she doesn't know what to do with them. She's so cute when she looks shy like this, I feel my heart melt in a wave of affection.

'I, hum,' she begins softly with a blush, starting to rock back and forth on her feet. 'You look… Beautiful.'

'Thank you,' I say with a smile, trying to make her feel comfortable – because obviously she's _super_ nervous. 'So do you.'

'Oh, really?' she sighs heavily, as if relieved. 'I was scared you wouldn't like it, I know it's not really conventional, but I just hate dresses, and I found this, I thought it might be nice, but if you're not fine with it I have a dress in the car, you know, maybe you don't want to hang out with me if I wear this…'

'Fang,' I cut, taking her hand as she takes a deep breath. 'I'm totally fine with you being handsome, and I definitely want to hang out with you. So where are you taking me?'

'Well, you'll see,' she simply says with a wink.

She smiles at me when I give her a disappointed pout, and takes me gently by the arm. Then, she leads me to the car and opens the door, before extending her arm so that I can use it to take a seat.

'Madam,' she says with deliberate grandiloquence, and even adds a small bow for good measure.

I use the few seconds it takes her to turn around the car and sit next to me to stifle the girlish giggle that rises in my throat – I don't want to give her plain satisfaction right from the beginning, that would just spoil the whole seduction game. The engine starts with a roar and she warmly grins at me when she buckles her belt. I don't know what's going to happen tonight, but it's probably going to be one of the best nights in my entire life – if not _the_ best.

For more than half an hour, we remain silent – it's a very comfortable silence, though. I look at the landscape scrolling behind the window and I find it rather relaxing. The city looks truly beautiful when the night falls and the sky looks like a giant palette of blue and purple and pink. I want to share that reflection with Fang when I notice she's particularly focused on the road. Or lost in her thoughts. Actually, I think she's trying to find things to say when we'll be sitting at our table – her lips are moving from time to time, and she shrugs, and she nervously taps the wheel with her fingers. I shake my head slightly with a small smirk, thinking this is both adorable and reassuring – at least, I know I'm not the only one who dreads prolonged silences. She's not really paying attention to me, and it gives me the opportunity to look at her more in detail. I like the way she has attached her hair. It's obvious she hasn't even tried to run a comb through them, probably because she knew it would be utterly useless, but still, they look a little less wild than usual. It makes her face brighter, and the two strands falling arrogantly on her forehead, as usual, gives her a rather charming look. If it wasn't for her long eyelashes and her delicate features, she could easily have passed for some kind of handsome prince. The tuxedo fits her perfectly and doesn't take away her slenderness nor her generous curves. She's done her best to cover the lingering shades of purple of the week-old bruises and I have to admit she's done a really good job. If I didn't know they were there, I wouldn't have noticed them at all. I'm glad that for this very special night, she looks exactly like the Fang I've always known. She's truly beautiful, and I'm glad she's me gentleman tonight.

'There we are,' she finally says as she parks in front of a huge restaurant, that looks rather luxurious from the outside.

'Fang!' I say, mouth agape, when I read the name of the place on the luminous panel. 'That restaurant has to be the most expensive of the whole planet!'

'Really?' she says casually, patting her chest pocket, probably to make sure she had her wallet. 'I've just been told it's a nice place. Oh… Maybe you think it's too… Pretentious or something?'

'No, it's not that,' I answer, trying to ignore my brains yelling to me that the place actually _is_ a bit stiff. 'It's just… How can you, I mean, we, afford that? It's just too much, I can't…'

'Hey, Lightning,' she interrupts, holding her hand up. 'I wouldn't have taken you there if I couldn't afford it. It's fine. I just want to have a good time. Please, just enjoy and let me take care of things, okay?'

I want to protest, because I can't see how she could have gotten so much money in such a short time – and because I perfectly know a dinner for two here costs almost two thirds of my paycheck. But on the other hand, I know it would hurt her if I refused her invitation simply because of a money issue. I take her hand with a bright smile when she reaches out for me, and we head for the entrance, where a doorman in an expensive suit greets us and lets us inside. The atmosphere really is particular in here. It's hushed, mostly because of the carpet floor and the beautiful tapestry on the walls, and it's obvious that it's not a restaurant for ordinary people. From where we are standing, we can already spot an old lady with so many diamonds I think she could buy the whole place with her jewelry, and a man with a gold watch and an enormous signet ring sipping snobbishly a glass of wine. I have to admit, I feel a bit out of place, and I'm glad Fang is here to take charge of things.

'I have a reservation, under the name Fang Yun,' she says to the receptionist who immediately starts flipping through the pages of his register.

'Right this way,' he says pompously, and then starts snaking between the tables toward the far end of the spacious room.

He finally shows us our table, and I notice with a smile that there are candles. I smile even more when I realize we're the only ones with candles – I'm sure Fang asked for them just because she knew I'd like some. This is more than perfect. She pulls my chair and helps me settle properly, before sitting opposite me. I know this is not the kind of things you do somewhere so stiff, but I put my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my crossed fingers. Fang looks a bit embarrassed to have nothing to say – she opens and closes her mouth several times before giving up. It seems that she couldn't find any interesting subjects of conversation in the car, in the end. I don't mind, because the silence isn't as dreadful as I expected it to be. I just look at her and think of how lucky I am to be here. She truly looks astoundingly beautiful in the dim light, the flickering flame of one of the candles reflecting in her eyes. I could look at that face for hours and never get bored.

'Hey, sweetheart, what is it?' she suddenly asks, sounding a bit worried, taking the silk handkerchief tucked in her pocket.

'What?' I answer, emerging from my thoughts. 'Nothing, I'm fine.'

'Then why are you crying?' she enquires softly as she brushes the handkerchief on my cheeks.

'Oh, I… Oh…,' I say when I see the tear-stained silk square. 'I guess… You make me happy. I'm happy.'

'Well… It seems that whatever I do, I'll always get you crying, yeah?' she says with a half smile.

'As long as you're here to wipe my tears, I don't mind,' I answer warmly, reaching for her hand. 'Fang, I'd rather weep a few tears when you're in front of me than drown in buckets of them when you're away. Please don't torment yourself with this. I'm totally fine, I just tend to get a bit emotional around you.'

'I'm not tormenting myself,' she answers, brushing the back of my hand with her thumb. 'It's just that I don't like it much when you cry. You know, I've never understood why people cry when they're happy. It's such a mood killer. I think it's corny, and stupid, and… Well, because of you, I've achieved a whole new level of stupidity.'

She turns her head toward the window quickly and takes a deep breath, as if she's trying to control her own tears. But it's too late. They're already running down her cheeks. She immediately wipes them with her handkerchief – the thing will end up soaked – and clears her throat, shifting in her seat. I think this is the third time I've fallen head over heels for her tonight. Everything she does, everything she says is just irrepressibly adorable and lovable. This is a brand new side of her that I've never seen before. The more I get to know her, the more I love her. This is unbelievable.

She sighs heavily and finally dares to look back at me, a sketch of a smile on her face. She's obviously ashamed of her reaction, and all I want to do right now is give her a tight hug. The hug will have to wait, though, as the waiter finally comes to give us the menu and the wine list, and takes out a silver pen and his notepad, waiting for our order. My eyes wander on the starters, and I bite the inside of my cheek when I see the astronomical prices – if someone had told me a mushroom rolled in a salad leaf could cost this much, I would never have believed them . I kick Fang discreetly under the table and try to hide my mouth as best as I can as I move my lips. _No starters_, I articulate distinctly, and, thank Etro, she gets it quickly enough and doesn't protest.

Her eyes go back to the list, and I suppress a laugh when I realize she is staring at what's on the menu, as if she has no idea what the words mean. It's true that the names of the dishes are rather awkward – just like in any high-class restaurant – but we can still more or less easily guess the ingredients. She's just not used to the names we have here on Cocoon.

'I'll have your best meat,' she finally says after a minute of deep-thinking. 'I leave the choice of the wine to you.'

'And I'll have this,' I tell him, pointing to the third option on the list – I actually have no idea how to pronounce it, but I'm sure it's some kind of fish.

'As you are taking meat and fish, should I choose a red or white wine?' the waiter politely asks, taking back the menus.

'Why, both of course,' Fang answers, leaning back in her chair. 'You can't possibly drink white wine with meat, and vice versa.'

I lift my eyes to the sky as the waiter nods and leaves us. I take back what I said before: this is actually going to cost a whole paycheck. I keep my mouth shut, though, as she already has accepted not to take any starters. She really doesn't seem to understand the value of things and I'm sure she has no idea of what the numbers mean, but it doesn't matter. She looks too happy to do it for me to stop her. I trust her. And, if need be, I'll give back the money to whoever's lending it later. After some time, our plates finally arrive, and I'm quite surprised to find out the dishes are actually rather copious. Follow the two bottles of wine that the waiter uncork before us. He pours some in Fang's glass, and I have to disguise my laugh into a series of discreet coughs when she pretends to be the perfect expert, and starts commenting the color and the smell with an appreciative look. She then tastes it, declare herself satisfied, and the waiter finally fills her glass. He does the same for me, but I don't waste time smelling and tasting – given the price of the bottle, it just _has_ to be good.

'You had no idea what you were doing, right?' I ask with a giggle, planting my fork in the small portion of rice.

'Of course not,' she smiles brightly, picking up her knife. 'It _is_ good, though.'

We eat in silence but keep exchanging warm and sparkling looks. The food is excellent, the atmosphere is perfect, and this definitely is the kind of date I was hoping for. She even gets to wipe a dribble of sauce on my chin with her napkin – I know it's lame, but I planned for this to happen. I just wanted to know how far she was willing to push the chivalrous act, and I am not disappointed. Everything is as I wanted it to be. I finish before her, and I watch as she conscientiously chew the enormous piece of meat she's just put into her mouth. I think that's kind of a shame she doesn't take her time, but at least she seems to enjoy it. It's quite fun to look at actually. She swallows the whole mouthful at once and gulps down a bit a wine, and leans back in her chair with a sigh of content.

'That was better than noodles,' she smiles, rubbing her stomach. 'We should come here more often.'

'Yeah, like, once every ten years,' I answer with a grin, folding my napkin next to my plate.

She laughs heartily, drawing the attention of the other customers, but far from being embarrassed, she starts waving at them until they look away. That woman is hopeless – and I love it. After a few minutes, the waiter finally arrives with the list of desserts, and this time Fang has no trouble choosing. She immediately asks for the chocolate ice cream and the strawberries, which of course are accompanied with some miniature cakes. I chose the lemon pie with its crown of orange sugar flowers, and we decline politely when he suggests a liquor to end the dinner. He then takes away our plates and disappears, and that's when Fang starts looking nervous – _again_. Still nothing horrible or dangerous in sight, though, so what is she up to? She clears her throat several times, smoothes the folds on her jacket, reorganizes the glasses in front of her, folds and unfolds her napkin twice and finally shifts uncomfortably in her seat before she dares to open her mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
**

'Hum, Lightning,' Fang starts, tugging on her sleeve. 'I, uh, I got you a little something.'

She even has thought about getting me a gift? Like, _a real date gift_? Okay, this is definitely the best date I've ever had. It's like she can read me like an open book, she knows every little thing I like, every little detail that makes it all perfect. I sit on the edge of my seat, waiting impatiently to find out what it is, when she speaks again.

'The thing is…' she says, rearranging her tie as if it's stifling her. 'Well, just don't freak out, okay? I chose something that I think looks nice, you know, but… I didn't know what it meant _here_ to give something like this. I've been told about that when it was already in my pocket and there was no way I could return it. So I'm going to give it to you, but promise me you won't freak out. This gift only means what you want it to mean, okay?'

I nod quickly and grasp the edge of the table as she reaches for the thing in her pocket. I know what it is – no, I think I know what it is, but maybe it's not, it doesn't have to be necessarily what I think it is – and when she takes out a tiny velvet box my breath gets caught it my throat. She slowly opens it and presents its content to me with a bashful smile, and my heart just bursts - with joy, happiness, love, and whatever feelings that take over me. I stare enviously at the beautiful silver ring mounted with a delicate silver rose, its petals shining brightly in the light of the candles. She carefully takes it out of the box and she takes my hand, and she slides the ring down my finger. I can't take my eyes off it. Why did she she even asked me to not freak out? The last thing I'll think about doing right now is freaking out. If she hadn't said this wasn't supposed to be an engagement ring, I honestly think I would have said yes. Without hesitation. I know I love her more than anyone else, I know she's the one and I know I want to spend the rest of my life with her. It's true that we've been together for a week, that this is our first date, that we don't know half of what we should know about each other. And yet, this is enough. I don't need more than this. I have the conviction that I'm going to spend my entire life either with her or alone. I've never felt this eager to commit myself to someone and now is the perfect opportunity.

'It's beautiful,' I whisper softly, caressing the rose with the tip of my finger.

'I knew it would look good on you', she says softly, planting a kiss on the back of my hand. 'I saw the rose and it…'

'Fang,' I cut against my will, knowing that if I don't get it out now, it'll be stuck inside me forever. 'What if I want it to have the meaning it's supposed to have?'

She looks at me a moment, mouth agape, as if she's trying to understand. I clench my teeth, thinking that I've pushed it too far. I know I'm more than ready for this, _but is she_? Could it be that, once again, I haven't thought about _her_ feelings? I suddenly realize that I've just suggested a marriage. _A goddamned marriage_. As if that is a decision you can take without giving it too much thought. That possibility have probably never crossed her mind. I can see it in her eyes. She's shocked, surprised, I can imagine too well in how much trouble I've just thrown her into. Etro, I've just ruined my perfect date… I'm such an idiot. Or maybe I have the superpower to completely annihilate, in just a second, every hope and precious moment of my life? I tend to do that a lot lately.

'You mean…' she begins slowly, and I can see she struggles to express what she want to say. 'Like, the _marry me_ thing and all?'

'I'm sorry,' I apologize, feeling my cheeks burn. 'I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have, I know it's…'

'Is that what you mean?' she asks, putting her index across my lips.

I nod slowly, and I just know this is it. I've just asked for too much. I want to slap myself for always asking for more. Can't I just enjoy what I have? Everything was going so well, I had every single thing I could hope for, and even much more than that. Why do I always have to ruin everything? I know she's going to leave now. She stands, drinks a last sip of her wine and carefully wipes her mouth. She seems to hesitate a moment, and finally she makes a sign, as if she's asking me to wait. She pats my shoulder lightly, without looking at me, and goes away. I burry my face in my palms and try to fight the tears I feel coming. I don't know where she's gone, and in my head I'm starting to believe she just went to call a cab for me so that I can go home without her. Of course, that's it. She has enough heart to not let me walk home alone – and that's still too kind of her. She should have taken back her ring at least. I don't deserve it, not anymore. For long minutes, I wait, as she instructed. There's not much to do anyway, apart from cursing myself and slowly dying of remorse.

But then, I hear a soft sound of clothes rubbing, a throat being cleared, and suddenly Fang is kneeling beside me. I cover my mouth with my hands, unable to breathe, wide eyed. This is beyond imagination. She reaches for my hand, and I seal my lips, because I know I'll squeal shamelessly if I keep my mouth open. Is she _really_ doing what I think she's doing?

'Lightning,' she starts, obviously thinking about what to say next. 'I know I haven't been there for you lately. I know you suffered because of me and I know that this moment of our lives has been really tough on the both of us. But I would like to believe what you and I went through was not entirely bad. I think it brought us together, in a way. We have learned things about each other and we have seen the love we share for each other in its purest form. I have never felt like this before. It scares me somehow. I feel like I have the responsibility and the duty to make you happy, and I'm terrified I might fail. But that fear could never take over the utmost felicity I'm certain to feel whenever you'll smile, or laugh. There's nothing I want more than seeing you happy. It would be an honor if you were willing to give me the chance to try and make your life better. So, Lightning Farron, will you let me love you as much as you deserve to be loved, and marry me?'

My throat is so constricted, there's nothing I can say. If I open my mouth, I'm sure to burst into sobs. I have no idea how she came up with this, but that has to be one of the most romantic and beautiful and charming and sincere proposal that's ever been formulated. I look at her, and I realize she's lifting her eyebrows hopefully, still waiting for an answer. I nod hastily as I stand up, taking her hands in mine. She finally gets back to her feet and smiles at me brightly. This is not just my perfect date. It's the most perfect day of my whole life.

'Yes,' I breathe heavily, as she wraps her arms around my waist. 'Yes.'

A rain of tears rolls on my cheeks when I close my eyes. She kisses me deeply, drawing me into her, and I know this is the last time I'll feel like this. The situation is so unique, the occasion is so special, there's no way I can ever live something as intense as this in the future. After a minute – a single minute, it feels like it's been half a second since her lips found mine – she draws back a little, and I bury my face against her shoulder. I realize my whole body is shaking because of my cries, but it doesn't matter. I know I won't have many reasons to cry after this, and for once, I'm not ashamed of my tears. My heart is beating loudly against my ribs and my cheeks feel hot, I can't hear anything and I can only see those emerald eyes piercing through me. It only lasts a heartbeat, but I feel it. True happiness.

'It's okay, sweetheart,' Fang whispers softly, patting my back and rocking me in her arms. 'It's okay.'

'I know,' I laugh through my tears, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. 'I know. It's just… crazy.'

'It's real, though,' she smiles, her fingers sliding down my arms to catch my hands. 'Better than your dreams, yeah?'

'This doesn't even compare to my dreams, Fang,' I answer lowly, mechanically smoothing her jacket. 'This is perfect. This is… Thank you.'

'No,' she shakes her head, caressing my cheekbone with her thumb. 'Thank _you_.'

We exchange one last kiss before I finally see the waiter waiting behind Fang with the desserts in his hands. I feel a bit embarrassed – this isn't the kind of place you display your emotions, like this, in front of everyone – but then I understand he's doing his best to hide his smile. He seems to be a nice guy and nods kindly when I apologize softly. We go back to our seats and he puts the desserts in front of us, and I notice the wink Fang and he share before he takes leave.

'He kinda helped me with the whole thing', she explains, already attacking the innocent strawberries with the edge of her spoon. 'You know, I'm not good at this and I wanted to say something decent.'

'He did a good job,' I say, biting in my own pie. 'What you said was perfect.'

'Well, I think I can even do better than this,' she says with a grin, planting a little strawberry on the top of a small portion of ice cream. 'I'm going to share this divine dessert with you. This is worth ten slushy speeches.'

I've never really liked chocolate, nor strawberries, but when the spoonful hits my tongue, it tastes like the best thing I've ever eaten. Of course, this is not rational, I know it's just because right now I'm compelled to love everything, but I don't mind. I'm engaged to Fang and I'm starting to enjoy life again.

We finish eating in silence – the atmosphere now is quite different. Still comfortable, but the way she looks at me now is just… I don't know how to put it, but there's something in her eyes that wasn't there before, something primal, and it's troubling. After she puts her spoon across her empty plate, she bends toward me and whispers in my ear.

'I hope that won't be the last thing I'll eat tonight.'

I blush madly when I realize what she means by that, and I slap her arm with a worried look behind me, hoping nobody heard that. _So, that was what the weird looks were about_… On the outside, I look outraged, but she perfectly knows how to get to me. She drinks the last of her wine with a smirk, and then suggests leaving because she wants to take me somewhere else before we go home. I agree with a nod, and we head back to the reception to pay. She takes out a credit card, exchange the usual polite phrases with the receptionist, and we finally go back to our car. The ride is peaceful, especially as there's not much traffic at this time of the night. She stops in front of a huge barrier that blocks the way toward what seems to be a tiny, private beach on the boarder of a huge lake.

'Fang, we can't go there,' I inform her sternly, rubbing my cold hands together.

'Yes we can,' she smiles, unbuckling her belt. 'I met the owner this afternoon, a nice old lady. She told me I could come here whenever I want.'

She gets out of the car and rummages through the trunk, while I go lean against the barrier. The place looks beautiful. There's not much light, but the moon shining brightly on the surface of the calm waters is enough to see clearly. I take a few steps onto the sand and inhale deeply the fresh air of the night. Fang catches up with me, a box of some sort in her hands – I have no idea what it is, this time – along with a blanket. I shiver deeply against my will when the cold breeze starts to brush against my skin and through the wool of the thin black pullover I took with me. She immediately puts her things down on the ground and takes off her jacket before draping it on my shoulders. This feels _so_ cliché, but it's a lovely attention nonetheless. Her warmth envelops me all of the sudden, her perfume invades my nostrils, and I am quick to slide my arms in the sleeves.

'What about you?' I ask softly as we make our way to the middle of the beach.

'Don't worry,' she answers, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. 'I like cold.'

We stop right in a ray of moonlight, and she spreads the blanket on the sand, putting the box down carefully. I sit next to her and bring my knees close to my chest, realizing why she has chosen this particular place. She told me she wanted to look at the stars, and this is definitely a good spot. The sky is clear, and thousands of them are sparkling above us. It looks eerie, almost unrealistic, like a painting. I watch as she takes out a bottle of champagne from the mysterious box.

'I promised to myself,' she says, her voice barely above a whisper, 'that I would open this only if our date met my expectations.'

'And?' I whisper, putting my chin her shoulder.

'And I should have brought a case of six,' she says, half joking, half serious. 'Lightning, you don't seem to realize what this means to me.'

'What does it mean?' I enquire, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my head on her shoulder.

'Everything,' she breathes, looking up at the stars. 'A new life. A revenge. I finally exist. My father… He knew about my preference for women. He never missed an occasion to remind me that I would never be a respected Yun and a honorable wife. For him, I had no future. He resented my very existence. Every day, he would ask me what he did to deserve this burden sent by the Gods. If only he could see me right now, I'd show him. I'd show him I'm a real Yun. I'd show him my beautiful fiancée. I'd show him I've become everything he wanted me to be. I wish he were here and proud of me. He was a good guy you know. It's just… When you live in a village where everyone knows everything about their neighbors, sometimes it's hard to cope with the truth. I'm sure he loved me, but it was easier to despise me than to face the disgust of hundreds of villagers.'

I listen to her slow breathing as she stops in her story. I become aware that this is the first time she mentions her past, and now I understand why. It seems that, apart from Vanille, she's never been loved much back then. She must have felt so lonely, it must have been so hard to pretend to be what she wasn't, just for the sake of a family that didn't even try to help her. But I'm not surprised. I've always known there's a generous and kind woman hiding underneath the rough and tough warrior. That's what I first liked about her. Maybe because I needed someone to remind me what it meant to be nice to others. I know I'm not one of that kind. Nice is definitely not a word to qualify me. And even though her presence has a positive effect on me, I know I'll never have her spontaneity and humanity. We are too different. She's kind-hearted, I'm not. She has done so much for me, and I have done so little for her, when it should have been the contrary. I feel like I took her for granted while she still was struggling to try and get my attention. Because she had nothing to lose when I could lose everything at once, I should have been the one to make everything could to deserve her. She was trying to win my heart when all I could focus on was the desperate need to not lose hers. She's too good and I'm too selfish.

'Now I have you', she speaks again, smiling warmly. 'I love you, and I swear I'll do my best to be the most perfect wife that's ever been.'

'You'll have to be second best, Fang', I whisper against her cheek. 'Because I'll be the perfect wife for you. You deserve it more than I do.'

'Oh, really?' she asks, brushing her nose against mine. 'What if we tried to be perfect for one another?'

'That's fine with me,' I smile lightly with a soft kiss.

'Let's drink to that, then.'

She hands me two flutes and pours carefully the golden champagne – she's trembling because of the cold wind that's now blowing softly, and despite her previous assertion, she obviously is cold, but she's too proud to admit it. She takes her own glass from my hand, and stares at me with a troubling intensity. We clink glasses, without a word, without a breath, her eyes never leaving mine as we bring our flutes to our lips. I don't know what kind of sorcery this is, but the magic is working. I can't feel the wind on my skin anymore, I can't hear the sound of the tiny waves of the lake breaking on the shore, and I can't see anything but those two sparkling jewels piercing through me like a sharp knife.

'Tell me about the stars,' I breathe after I swallow with difficulty a little sip of the fizzing drink.

She nods slowly and settles behind me, so that I'm between her legs, my back on her chest, my head resting on her shoulder. She wraps an arm around my waist while her other hand takes mine delicately. Cheek against cheek, she starts pointing my finger at different luminous points shining brightly in the sky. _Acubens, Diphna, Scheddi, Meissa, Caph_… She seems to know them by heart, and also know everything there is to know about them. I've never really wondered about the stars – I've never understood why we should care about things so distant, that are of so little relevance to us – but now I think that it's more fascinating than boring. Of course, Fang is the one making all of this interesting. Every constellation she's talking about has a story, about war, family, love, story about heroes and Gods, kings and princesses, and it doesn't take long before my mind is filled with images of warriors defeating monsters, men ruling over the world from their fluffy clouds, and Fang and I on our wedding night… I smile when that image springs in my mind, and I unconsciously tighten my hold on the arm around my waist. At some point, I stop listening to what she's saying, and let myself be lulled by her deep, soothing voice. She never stops talking, she always have something to add about a particular star, she always finds a new one that magically appears behind a thin cloud. I know she could go on forever if she wanted to, but I feel the irrepressible need to yawn and I long for a warm bed.

'Fang,' I interrupt softly, turning to face her. 'I… Can we go home? I'm a bit tired.'

'Oh,' she says, taking a look at her watch. 'I'm sorry, I had no idea it was this late already. You should have told me sooner. Okay, hold on tight, sweetheart.'

I cry out of surprise when she rises to her feet and lifts me up as well. I quickly wrap my legs around her waist and my arms around her neck as she bents to pick up the blanket and the box. She heads back to the car, supporting my weight a best as she can with her full hands, and I can't help and kiss the exposed skin offered to me. It's not much yet, but I'm planning to kiss every inch of that perfect skin once we get home.

'You should keep the blanket to keep you warm', she offers after she drops me near the car. 'It's a bit cold.'

I shake my head. It's true that it's rather chilly, but her jacket is enough, and from here, my house is not that far. I'm sure I can survive this ten-minute ride home. And indeed, ten minutes later, I'm still alive - despite the trembling and the goose bumps. I wait for her to turn off the ignition, but she doesn't. She just gets off the car and comes to my side, hiding her hands in the pockets of her trousers.

'Well, thank you for the night, it was… Really great,' she simply says, rocking on her feet.

Okay, the whole chivalrous thing was funny at first, but now, it's getting ridiculous. Really great? That's all? _Really_? And now she want to leave? The woman proposed to me, that has to be a bit more than just _great_. I lift my eyes to the sky, bend towards the wheel to turn off the ignition, pick up my purse on the backseat and slam my door. She seems to want to protest, but this time I'm taking the lead. I grab her hand firmly and leads to my front door. I fumble with my keys a moment and finally find the lock, and we stumble inside because of my haste. She closes the door behind us, and even takes the time to pick up my purse I've dropped on the floor and put it on the coffee table. I sigh loudly and refrain from throwing it back on the floor out of frustration. We're home, alone, I want her like I've never wanted anyone in my life... And she wants to go - whereas she supposedly lives with me. There has to be a problem here. I mean, isn't it obvious that ending a night like this with just a goodbye and a kiss would be totally lousy? She wanted to wait for the right time, well if that isn't a right time, I don't know what kind of opportunity she's waiting for. And she is the one who clearly said she wanted to eat something else tonight, and she definitely wasn't talking about ice cream, so why does she looks so hesitant?

'What is it?' I ask her, putting my hands on her hips.

'I…' she stutters, scratching the back of her head. 'Well, you know, you look, huh, super hot right now. I mean, you're always hot, you know. But with that dress and everything, you're… Oh come on sweetheart, you know, you…'

'Do you want me?' I say, grazing the skin of her jaw with my teeth.

'Yes,' she promptly answers, holding my waist. 'No, I mean, no, now is… I've been told that's not something you wish for on a first date. I don't want to ruin the whole thing, that's all.'

'Have you been told that you usually don't propose on a first date either?' I whisper against her cheek. 'Have you been told that you should do as your date tells you to?'

'Nope,' she lets out in a ragged breath as I pull her shirt out from her pants.

'And have you been told that if your date has wanted you for days,' I breathe against her lips, staring into her eyes, 'it would be a crime to refuse them the pleasure of your company after such a wonderful night?'

'Hmhm,' she shakes her head, her lips parting to let a puff of hot breath escape. 'So... What do you want?'

'Be a good girl, Fang,' I slur in her ear as her fingers clench tighter on my hips. 'Come and get your dessert…'

* * *

**Notes:**

Okay, I know this is a bit exaggerated, but it wasn't my intention at first to do such a OOC thing.

The thing is, thanks to this, I'll be able, in a few chapters, to fill F-F prompt 127 (_the wedding night thing_).

However, as I do not wish to make this story too slushy (_which is actually already the case..._), I'll definitely have to return to more serious plots in the future.

I promise it won't be too angsty, but it'll have some darker themes.

The next chapter will be rated M, but you'll be able to skip it as it is not relevant to the whole of the story!

Thank you for reading, and also big thanks to roxyroxas1313 who's been following this story from the beginning, it's really appreciated! :-)


	9. Chapter 9

**/!\ This chapter is rated M ****/!\ **

I keep the rating to T, though, because this chapter can be skipped as it is not relevant to the story itself. It's fine if you don't want to read it this is one is very explicit).

I don't know what to write next, so it might take some time before I update chapter 10 (I know where I want to go, I just don't know how to get there yet).

Thank you for your lovely reviews, they're always appreciated!

Enjoy your reading, and as always, let me know what you think! :-)

**Chapter 9  
**

It seems that I don't need to say it twice. She grabs my thighs forcefully, lifts me up and pins me against the wall as my legs wrap around her waist. I grasp her tie and draw her into a deep kiss, swallowing her moans as my tongue pushes past her lips. Her hands are all over me, I can feel her finger on my back, running down feverishly, tracing the curves of my bottom through my dress. I'm torn between the need to touch her, see more of her, tear that annoying shirt open. I can't seem to decide what to do, there are too many things to focus on, too many things to think about. I feel hot, her lips on mine, her teeth biting the flesh of my mouth, her tongue battling with mine ferociously.

Her jacket now feels stifling, but thank Etro she soon takes the initiative to take it off. She has to push my hands away from her face to pull the sleeves off my arms, and I have to break the kiss to get rid of my pullover. I blush when I realize she's seized the opportunity to stare at my cleavage – not to mention the dress has dropped a little during the night, and it reveals far more than it's supposed to. I lift her chin up and capture her full lips again, my fingers finding the buttons on her shirt. One by one, they come undone, while her mouth starts planting wet, open kisses on my jaw and my neck. She must have felt my throat vibrate when her tongue found my pulsing point as I let a low growl escape my lips. She takes a few steps, probably heading for the bedroom, groping her way through the dark.

She has to stop half way with a grunt when my hand cups her breast through her bra, and my fingers start massaging the generous flesh. I finally get to touch them, and I smirk against her shoulder when I feel the erect nipple through the soft material. I notice her legs start quivering a little, and she has to lean against the wall, her hands readjusting their hold on my thighs.

'Light', she moans against my throat, her hot breath setting my skin on fire. 'I won't make it to the bedroom if you don't stop.'

'You have five seconds,' I breathe heavily in her ear, my fingers hovering over her stomach. 'That's the best I can do.'

She immediately rushes toward the end of the corridor, pushes the door open with her shoulder and hits the light switch with her elbow. She drops me carefully on the bed and I'm quick to take off my heels, ready to kiss her again, and touch her, and rip all those clothes off her. I turn on my back, feeling my cheeks flushed and my heart hammering against my ribcage, only to find her standing at the foot of the bed. She's just standing there, her arms dangling on her sides, her breath shallow. And she's staring at me. Her eyes are not sparkling anymore. They're just filled with lust and passion, roaming over my body shamelessly as if she wants to eat me. I feel like a prey whose only want is to get caught.

'I love that dress,' she comments, her deep voice burning with desire. 'Very sexy.'

She kicks her shoes aside and takes off her shirt before kneeling on my side. Her fingers brush against my ankle, and travel upwards sensually, but don't dare go further when they reach the hem of my dress. Every touch, every caress sends shivers down my spine, and a wave of heat is already spreading is my whole body, from my toes to the tip of my fingers. But I want more. I want her. I grab her neck and pull her to me to taste her swollen lips once again. I hook a leg around hers and quickly reverse the situation before she can protest. I kiss her like I've never kissed her before, a particularly pleasant heat steadily growing between my legs. She's tugging frantically on my dress in the hope that, maybe, it's going to magically fall off my body. She likes it, that's for sure, but I'm starting to think she'd like it best right now if it wasn't on me.

I nibble her jaw, my hands lying on her chest, and I can feel the tension in her limbs,the skin and the muscles vibrating under my fingetips. I slowly lick my way down, plant a kiss between her breasts, and force myself to not uncover them right now. Instead, my tongue keeps sliding on her smooth skin, finds her navel, and keeps going down until I reach the hem of her pants. I can't see her face, but from the moans and groans that fills the silence of the room, and the muscles twitching under my touch, I suppose she likes it. My fingers fiddle a moment with her belt, pull down the zipper, and she willingly lifts her hips so that I can slide the pants down her slender legs. This is not the first time I see her in this state of undress, but the way her cheeks darken and how she rubs her thighs together are definitely a premiere. It's my turn to stare at her beautiful body spread before me – and I'm excited just by the sight of it. Just the thought of what's under the underwear, of what I'm about to do to her, of what she's going to do to me, all of this is just electrifying.

'Hey sweetie,' she whispers, he voice particularly hoarse. 'How about you take that off?'

I hesitate a moment – the dress is strapless, so of course I didn't put a bra on. She gives me a reassuring look – lustful, because she obviously is aware of the fact, but reassuring nonetheless. I reach for the zipper on my side, and pull it down, slowly. Her eyes never leave mine, and when the dress falls around my waist, they narrow almost imperceptibly, as if she's struggling to not look down. The intention is sweet, but I want her to look. There's nothing I want more than her eyes on me.

'I like it when you look at me,' I say, borrowing the words she told me a week ago.

She smiles as I get rid of the dress as graciously as I can, and I straddle her hips, doing my best to ignore the jolt of pleasure that sparks when my very sensitive private parts brush against hers – though the moan I let out proves I fail miserably. She watches attentively as I gently take her hands in mine, and put her open palms on my breasts. I swallow hard when her fingers squeeze my tender flesh with extreme delicacy. She seems hesitant to act on her own, as if I'm fragile, or as if she's scared she might do something I'm not ready for. She's going to have to understand that I'm hers, and that she can do whatever pleases her with me. She needs to start seeing me as a proud wife who feels perfectly comfortable with discovering things – not necessarily related to sex, as a matter of fact – and not a frail and shy girlfriend who retreats whenever something new comes up. She needs to understand this.

'Sit up,' I order in a breath, and she immediately complies.

I reach for the clasp of her bra in her back and throw the garment aside quickly. Her breathing is shallow, her bare chest is heaving rapidly, and her fingers are now digging in the pillow behind her. This gives me a rather complete view of her upper body that leaves me stunned. She's too perfect to be real. The smooth skin that shines with beautiful golden tones under the light, the heavenly shaped breasts that steadily rise and fall every time she breathes, the outlines of her strong abs and her hip bones… Everything is perfect. I let her taste my lips for a second, just to make her crave for more, before they kiss their way down her breasts, and close around a erect nipple. I hear a muffled groan when I sweep my tongue over it, and suck it slightly. She arches her back, her toes curling on the sheet, one of her hand cradling the nape of my neck.

'Oh, Light,' she moans loudly when I bring a hand to take care of the other breast.

'Sensitive, are we?' I smirk, nipping the nipple gently to illustrate my point. 'Let's see how sensitive you are down there.'

She wants to say something but she chokes on the words when I twist her nipple one last time between my fingers. I brush her sides with my knuckles and feel her whole body shiver under the touch as she throws her head back, biting her lip. That is so erotic and sexy, another wave of pleasure stirs in my lower stomach and soon washes over me. I do my best to control the butterflies in my stomach – though my body is agonizing right now, I still have enough sense to keep the pace as slow as can be – and I pinch her panties on her hips between my fingers. I hear her taking a deep breath and she props herself up on weak arms so that I can take the remaining piece of clothing off. I exhale briskly and lick my lips hungrily when I drop the black panties aside, finally able to see what's been hiding underneath for all this time. The dirty desire to fuck her senseless starts coursing through my vein like venom and I feel like my chest is going to implode. Having Fang, spread on my bed like this, legs barely parted, her hand playing with her own breast, is so much more than just a fantasy coming true. My most erotic dreams that I used to relish so much are now reduced to mere pornographic chimeras. This is real. And there is a totally different air about it. This is not just lust and sex. It's also burning desire, blazing passion and scorching love. The mix is exhilarating.

'Take yours off already,' Fang breathes huskily, her fingers now toying with my piercing.

'Do it yourself,' I tease as my finger trace the contours of her taut stomach.

And that's all it takes. Fang finally starts acting like _Fang_. Adventurous, daring, ferocious and brutal. Much to my delight, she's now reconciling with her huntress instincts. To her, I'm a beast to tame. Tonight, we're going to domesticate one another. Tonight, we're going to take this one final step. She grabs me by the shoulders and pins me on the mattress, her face inches from mine.

'You're gonna beg for me baby.'

Her hot breath blows on my skin, her dark eyes pierce through me, and I think I might faint. She sucks on my lower lip and all I can do is moan and clench the sheet as her hands gropes my breasts. My eyes shoot open when she straddles my thigh and thrusts a knee forcefully between my legs. It's rough, but Etro it's good. When I get used to the continuous pressure and the regular jolts of pleasure that shake my whole body, I realize she's rubbing herself shamelessly on my thigh. Not fast, not hard, but she's doing it. And that's probably why she's about to collapse over me, judging by the tremendous trembling of her arms and the way she buries her face in the crook of my neck and moans my name repeatedly. I don't mind – it would be a terrible lie to say this doesn't excite me – but she's certainly not going to make me beg if she keeps doing that. After a moment, she bites my shoulder rather forcefully, and a growl escapes my lips. Luckily, that brings her back to me, and she breathes in the smell of my hair before kissing my jaw softly. She then proceeds to lick conscientiously a trail down my throat, my chest, my belly, and her tongue toys a moment with my piercing.

'Do you like it?' I ask in a breath, my fingers tangling in her hair.

'No,' she answers honestly – and though honesty is a good thing, I think I'd have preferred a little lie. 'It's pretty. But I'm scared I might tear it off by accident when I fuck you.'

Well, at least, she has a good reason. And I can totally remedy that. My fingers leave her wild mane for a moment, and I cautiously remove the jewel – last reminder of a tormented adolescence – before dropping it on my nightstand.

'Now fuck me without fear, Yun,' I command in a whisper, not realizing at once her tongue was already licking feverishly the skin above my panties.

She unsaddles my thigh and settles between my legs. She bends toward my hot center, and at this point, I'm wondering what she's going to do. Probably take my panties off with her teeth, from the look of it. My stomach tenses in anticipation, and I hold my breath when her teeth graze the inside of my thigh slightly. What is she… _Oh Etro_. I groan loudly when she suddenly kisses my sensitive flesh through the lace, and I think I might have pulled out some of her hair. That's supposed to be just a taste of what's coming next and I'm already upside down. And not only does she kiss, she also pushes her tongue against me, eliciting more and more moans coming out from my throat in a uninterrupted flow. I know what she's doing, she really wants me to beg for her, but I can't give up now. It's too soon, and… Fuck.

'Come on, Fang,' I moan when she bites the hem of the garment. 'Do me already.'

'That wasn't asked very nicely,' she purrs against me, making my insides quiver.

'Etro, you're…' I struggle to say as her fingers wander on my lower belly, sliding under the elastic every once in a while. 'Please Fang… I want you. Please…'

'I can have my dessert, then?' she asks with a smirk, nibbling the skin of my legs.

'Help yourself,' I manage to say before I bite my lip forcefully.

She seems satisfied, eventually, and pulls the panties down my legs, torturously slowly – and at the same time, I'm grateful she takes it slow, because my body is already far too sensitive to take much more.

'What do you want?' she asks, between kisses planted on my skin as she drags herself up my leg.

I don't even have the time to formulate anything as she grabs me by the thighs and puts them on her shoulders. I blush deeply when I feel her breath on my skin on fire – I don't think I've ever been this exposed in my entire life. And yet, I feel compelled to draw her closer to my center, to cross my legs behind her neck and tighten my hold on her with a ridiculous groan when her tongue pokes my flesh once, and licks it from bottom to top.

'This?' she breathes, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Or this?'

She immediately inserts a finger in me to illustrate what she has in mind, and I'm too weak once again to stop a moan from slipping past my lips. My hips jerk violently upward when she swirls her tongue around my clit and adds a second finger. This is too much already. Why does she feel the need to torture me like this?

'Both?' she finally asks while I'm trying hard not to succumb to the wave of pleasure her fingers are eliciting. 'Or maybe you're already so close already it doesn't matter?'

I hear her questions, but my thoughts are spinning in my head, I can't focus on anything else than those fingers moving and curling inside me. I can't answer, and my hips start gyrating when her tongue runs through my folds again. And again. And again. And the way that mischievous tongue circle my clit. And those fingers pumping in and out roughly, making my whole body shake. I guess we're going for both. No. _It doesn't matter_. I'm sure she perfectly knows it and that's why she's not waiting for an answer. I'm finding hard to breathe all of the sudden, tiny intakes of air get caught in my throat, ridiculous high- pitched moans escaping my lips. I shut my eyes tightly when she starts kissing my lower stomach with wet lips – and I'm suddenly aware of the burning wetness between my legs – and brings her thumb to keep applying pressure on my most sensitive spot. She has her mouth over my breast now, she sucks my hard nipple, her free hand keeps caressing my body, she adds a third finger, and it's too much at once. I hook a leg around her waist, my nails dig in the skin of her shoulder blades, my hips follow the fast rhythm imposed by her fingers, and I know I'm close. The way my muscles tense, the way my inner walls start to contract, the tiny premise of the orgasm awakening and turning into an angry wave of pleasure. There's no mistaking it. She finally leaves my breast and starts sucking my pulsing point – that will definitely leave a hickey – as she launches the final assault. A few more thrusts, my sweaty skin rubbing against hers, a finger curling, and I come.

My legs tighten forcefully around her waist, my walls contract several times around her long fingers, and the blissful rush of ecstasy runs in my veins, making my whole body shake and my back arch into her. I see stars, I use the last of my breath to cry out her name before biting her shoulder, and I have to yield to the succession of waves of pleasure washing over me. This is almost too much to bear. In the back of my mind, far away, that's still somewhat connected to reality, I realize she's holding my hand tightly and that I'm holding on to her as if she's the only thing that keeps me anchored and helps me go through this torturous delectation. It takes me several minutes to relax and breathe normally again. Through my half-open eyes, I watch her bring her wet fingers to her mouth, and she conscientiously licks them clean, staring at me with dark, lustful eyes.

'I've changed my mind,' she whispers, bending to kiss my lips softly, allowing me to taste myself. '_That_ is the best dessert ever.'

I smile against her mouth as her fingers tangle in my hair. I feel spent, but plainly satisfied. But Fang isn't. Whether it's deliberate or not, she's rubbing herself on my again, and she seems so desperate, I'll be damned if I don't do something to help her. I gently take her by the shoulders and reverse our positions in one swift movement. I lay on top of her, her warm body pressing into mine.

'Now,' I ask softly, planting kisses on the base of her neck. 'What do _you_ want?'

'I want you to look at me,' she whispers, catching my hand. 'And I want those pretty fingers inside me.'

It's funny how her accent grows thicker when she's turned on. Funny, and terribly enticing. She brings the said fingers to her mouth and extends her tongue to wet them. Her lips close around them when I push them in her mouth, and her hot muscle runs along the length of them slowly and delicately. And, damn it, this is so sensual and sexy, I'm starting to feel excited again. I quickly shake this feeling away and focus on my task – it's not like there won't be any other round later. She grasps my wrist and, her eyes never leaving mine, guides my hand to her loins. When my fingers brush against her hot flesh, she hisses with a frown, and she tries her best to not close her eyes – which are now reduced to two narrow slits. She bites her lips forcefully when I cup her, and lets out a loud grunt when my middle finger runs through her folds and presses the little bundle of nerves. She crosses her arms behind my back and spreads her legs even more, lifting her chin to get a kiss that I immediately grant her. We break apart when my fingers finally push into her, and when I start moving them back and forth, she starts _talking_. Between moans, through a ragged breath, she starts mumbling things I didn't know could sound so outrageously erotic. I feel my cheeks flush when she tells me about the dreams she had while in crystal stasis, about fantasies she had when we still were l'Cies. All involving me. Her nails dig in my skin and her teeth scrape the nape of my neck as she breathes dirty stories in my ear, her accent now so thick I can barely understand what she's saying.

'Ah, Light,' she groans, our sweaty bodies rubbing against each other at each thrust. 'I… I want you to wear your skirt someday, with nothing under it, so that… Oh yeah, just like that baby! So that when I take a peek… I won't be like… Fuck! _I just went on a suicide mission for nothing!_'

'Talking from experience sweetheart?' I slur, stroking her clit roughly with my thumb.

She bites the tip of her tongue with a low moan rising in her throat, her toes digging in my calf. It seems that she can't talk any longer, but it doesn't make the sounds coming from her mouth less enjoyable. The flow of groans, moans, hisses reaching my ears sounds like a sweet melody I could listen to all night long. It goes straight to my gut and makes my insides twist, awakening a mixed feeling of desire and satisfaction. I suck on her lower lip as she's now unable to do anything but focus on her shallow breathing, and I start curling my digits inside her, eliciting a curse and a new wave of moans. The wetness spreading between her legs feels incredible and my coated fingers slide into her easily. Between groans, I hear her beg, _faster_. The muscle in my arm aches, and it screams in protest when I pick up the pace, but it doesn't matter. _Faster, harder_. Suddenly, she takes a sharp intake of air, her nails dragging painful on my lower back, her teeth digging in my shoulder. She cries out my name, I feel her whole body tense under me, her back arching, her walls tightening repeatedly around my fingers. She collapses on the mattress, a shiny layer of sweat covering her forehead, and says something that I really don't understand this time – probably Pulsian, though I'll have to ask for confirmation later.

'You're okay sweetie?' I ask softly, wiping my fingers on the sheet.

'Never been better,' she smiles weakly with a sigh of contentment. 'Thank you.'

I smile back, and unwittingly let out a yawn, suddenly feeling exhausted. The whole night was wonderful, fantastic, beyond imagination, and I wish it never ended, but right now, I feel like every ounce of energy has been drained from my body. Fang chuckles lightly before rising to her feet and heading for the switch to turn off the light. Then, she quickly returns to me and I cuddle up in her arms as she throws the sheet over us. I catch her hand delicately and entangle our legs, and she kisses me tenderly on my forehead.

'I love you,' she breathes in the silence of the room.

'I love you too.'


End file.
